SELECTIONS 



FROM 



GERMAN LITERATURE. 



^ B. B. EDWARDS AND E. A. PARK, 

PROFESSORS, THEOL. SEM., ANDOVER. 



ANDOVER: 
PUBLISHED BY WARREN F. DRAPER. 
1854. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by 

GOULD, NEWMAN & SAXTON, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



CONTENTS. 



Page. 

INTRODUCTION, BY THE TRANSLATORS. ..... 1—2" 

The Life, Character and Style of the Apostle Paul. By Prof. 

Tholuck.— P 31 _ 7 2 

. Chap. L Early Life of the Apostle. 31 

II. Same Subject continued, 36 

ILT. Character of the Apostle, 44 

IV. Style of the Apostle, 51 

Supplement by the Translator, 58 

Notes by the Translator, 62 

The Tragical Quality in the Friendship of David and Jona- 
than. By Prof. Frederic Koster. — E 75—82 

Note by the Translator, 82 

The Gifts of Prophecy and of Speaking with Tongues in the 

Primttiye Church. By Dr. L. J. Pucker t. — E. . 85—112 

Prefatory Note by the Translator, 85 

Introductory Eemark, ' 88 

Prophecy, gg 

Speaking with Tongues, 90 

Two Preliminary Considerations, 91 

Meaning of the Gift of Tongues, 93 

Notices in the Acts of the Apostles, . . . . . . .99 

Various Hypotheses, . 100 

Objections against the Theory of Tongues, 102 

View of the Passage in 1 Corinthians, . ... . . .106 

Conclusion, jjO 

Note by the Translator, . . . m 

Sermons by Prof. Tholuck. — P 115 193 

Sermon I. The Eelation of Christians to the Law, . . . .115 

II. Gentleness of Christ, 125 

HI. Fruitless Besolutions, 134 

IV. Earnest of Eternal Life, 143 

V. The Penitent Thief, . . . '. . . .154 
VI. The Presence of God with his Children, . . .161 
Notes by the Translator, .' 170 



iv 



CONTENTS. 



Sketch of Tholuck's Life and Character. — P. 



201—226 



The Doctrine of the Resurrection of the Dead. — A Commen- 
tary on the Fifteenth Chapter of the First Epistle to the Corinthians. 
By Dr. L. J. Riickert. — E . 229 278 



The Resurrection of the Body. By J. P. Lange. — E. 
Notes hy the Translator, 



Life of Plato. By W. G. Tennemann. — E 
Chap. I. Birth and Education, . 
II. Foreign Travels, 

III. First Residence in Syracuse, 

IV. School of Plato at Athens, 
V. Second Residence in Syracuse 

VI. Third Residence in Syracuse, 
VII. Vindication of Plato's Character, 
VIII. Last Davs of Plato, . 



279—292 
. 293 

311—367 
311 
331 
339 
342 
346 
352 
357 
363 



Sketch of the Biographers of Plato and of the Commentators 



upon his Writings. — E. . . . . . . 371 386 

The Sinless Character of Jesus. By Dr. C. Ullmann.— P. 388 — 472 

Prefatory Note by the Translator, 389 

Section I. General Principles of Reasoning in this Treatise, . . .390 

II. Same Subject continued, 394 

III. Testimony in favor of Christ, . . . . . . . 397 

IV. Characteristics of the Saviour, . 402 
V. Objections to the Testimony in favor of Christ, . . 409 

VI. Works and Influence of the Saviour, . . . .416 
VII. Objections against Christ's Character, .... 426 
VIII. Metaphysical Difficulties relating to the Saviour's Sinlessness, 436 
IX. Concluding Instructions from the Subject, . ' . . 445 
Notes by the Translator, 454 



ERRATA. 

Want of room prevents an intended notice of several errors, some of them 
errors of the press, on pp. 115, 116, 120, 121, 122, 123, 125, 133, 135, 141, 
146, 159, 163. After carefully comparing pp. 115—170 with the original, the 
translator discovered that, in his wish to give a free version, he had deviated, 
in several instances, too far from the text ; not far enough, however, to affect 
materially the train of thought. The errors may be easily detected. Page 133, 
line 2 from bottom, read invite for smite. Page 205, line 7 from bottom, read 
u judge at Halle, but now supreme judge." 



INTRODUCTION. 



There are two great tendencies in human nature of which Plato 
and Aristotle are commonly regarded as the representatives. One 
of these tendencies or characteristics is indicated, in its various forms, 
by the epithets speculative, theoretical, ideal, abstract, doctrinal, 
subjective. The terms which are employed in describing the other 
tendency are practical, experimental, concrete, actual, objective. 

Plato, though not deficient in acuteness and subtlety, was medita- 
tive and profound. As the author of the celebrated ideal philosophy, 
he supposed that certain ideas existed in the Divine mind from 
eternity, to which God gave a figure or form when he created the 
world. He ascribed a Divine original to the human soul. True 
happiness, according to Plato, consists in the investigation of truth 
and in the subjection of the passions. Virtue is the perfection and 
health of the soul. It is manifested in the various forms of wisdom, 
righteousness, temperance, valor. Plato had a living power of im- 
agination, a loftiness of thought, together with the ability to clothe 
his conceptions in the noblest and most beautiful forms. Under his 
pen the most abstract ideas assumed the character of life and reality. 
Spirit, vigor, warmth pervade his writings. 1 

1 See Scholl, Geschichte der Griech. Litt. I. 460. The moral character 
of Plato's great master is yet occasionally assailed with considerable vio- 
lence. The charges against Socrates originated partly from calumny, 
which is always thrown out by the vicious against those, who are more 
virtuous than themselves; and partly from a misapprehension of some 
Socratico-Flatonic expressions. For instance, when Socrates said, in his 
last moments, that he '•' owed a cock to iEsculapius," any one, who regards 
his well known habit of irony, may suppose that he was not in earnest; 
that be understood by iEsculapius health, and intimated by this form of ex- 
pression that he had almost recovered from his long disease. In respect to 
another charge — that of sensuality — we have the explicit testimony of 
Xenophon, that physical love was directly excluded by Socrates. Alcibiades, 
in Plato*s Dialogue, declares that Socrates was unsusceptible of every lower 
kind of love, being devoted to spiritual love alone. If Socrates had been 
1 



2 



INTRODUCTION. 



Aristotle is the father of natural history. The philosophical 
terminology and many of the existing scientific definitions are traced 
to his pen. He formed a system of logic with wonderful complete- 
ness, and also gave fundamental laws to rhetoric and poetry. 
Psychology owes to him its philosophical form. His style of 
writing is simple and exact. He never sacrifices sense to sound. 
He discards the fable, the allegory and the various figures of speech 
in which Plato abounds. He is always serene, tranquil, modest, 
though occasionally obscure in consequence of his brevity, or his use 
of uncommon words. He founded his system on reason and ex- 
periment, entirely rejecting the aid of the imagination. He em- 
braced all the branches of human knowledge which were attainable 
in his time, and gave to them order and a scientific form. He 
had collected so large a library that Plato named his dwelling, " the 
house of the reader." It has been said, probably with truth, that in 
the quality of mere dry intellect, Aristotle is at the head of the race. 

Plato is the leader of another series. In imagination, feeling, 
originality, in what may be termed the spiritual powers, he is among 
the greatest of the children of men— the Homer of philosophers. 
" Plato," says Goethe, " is, in relation to this world, like a blessed 
spirit, who chooses for a time to take up his abode here. His ob- 
ject is not so much to become acquainted with the world as kindly 
to communicate to it that which he brings with him, and which is so 
necessary to it. He mounts upward, with longing to partake again 
of his original. All that he utters has reference to one single prin- 
ciple — perfect, good, true, beautiful ; the love of which he studies to 
enkindle in every bosom. Whatever of earthly science he acquires 
in particulars, melts, yea we might say, evaporates in his method, 
in his discourse. Aristotle, on the contrary, is, in relation to the 
world, like a man, a master-builder. He is once here, and he must 
work and build. He inquires about the soil ; but no further than till 
he finds a firm foundation. From that point to the centre of the 
earth, all the rest is indifferent to him. He marks out a vast circuit 

guilty in this particular, would not Aristophanes have trumpeted it ? Be- 
fore we believe all which has been uttered against some of the best men of 
antiquity, we want better authority than the story-teller Athenaeus. We 
do not vindicate everything which Socrates did or said. We may contend 
that he would not be admitted into virtuous society now. But would many 
of the pious patriarchs of Scripture on the same principle ? See Tholucls in 
Bibl. Repos. II. 453, and Schweighauser, XII, 161. 



INTRODUCTION. 



3 



for his building, collects his materials from every quarter, arranges 
them, piles them one upon another, and thus rises in regular pyra- 
midical form into the air ; while Plato shoots up towards heaven 
like an obelisk, yea like a pointed flame." 1 

These eminent Greeks are not without their representatives at the 
present day. Plato reappears in the German ; Aristotle in the 
Anglo-Saxon. The former lives in an ideal realm. He is given to 
speculation. He is lost in the depths of his own spirit. Nothing is 
profound or subjective enough for him. The Oriental mysticism is 
seen again in the centre of Europe. The Gnostic finds a home on 
the banks of the Elbe. The German is not satisfied with the 
obvious meaning of a proposition. He must look behind or below it 
for something more fundamental, for something wrapped in deeper 
mystery. In struggling to reach a lofty and unattainable ideal, he 
will have nothing to do with the actual and possible. Plain 
sense, obvious truth, are cast out as too vulgar. A personal God, 
with definite, individual attributes is not to his taste. He meditates 
and conjectures till he loses himself in barren generalities or pan- 
theistic dreams. In his exclusive tendency he perverts Plato him- 
self. That great thinker did not overlook practical utility. His 
repeated and hazardous journies into Sicily, as well as many other 
events of his life, are a proof of his attention to the actual condition 
of his fellow creatures. His aim was the completeness, the symme- 
try, the perfection of the human soul. He abhorred everything 
partial or exclusive. Dr. Hitter terms his republic a ' University.' 
Still the general position is undoubtedly true that the Germans are 
the disciples of the Academy. Their faults are of the ideal kind. 
Their mistakes are not those of action. Of the errors of the experi- 
mentalist they are guiltless. 2 

On the other hand, the Englishman and American are thoroughly 
Peripatetic ; they are ever in motion. They are undoubting be- 
lievers in the sensible world. In rejecting its existence, Berkeley has 
hardly a living disciple. In demolishing his system, Dr. Reid per- 
formed a work of supererogation. Nothing could be more harmless 
than Berkeley's notion. The corn law or the woollen trade have 

1 Goethe, Farbenlehre II. 140. JBibl. Repos. III. 687. 

2 Of course the general tendency, the national characteristic is here 
described. Prominent exceptions doubtless exist. Of this the Memoirs of 
the Berlin Academy are a sufficient proof 



4 



INTRODUCTION. 



infinitely greater charms for the countrymen of the Minute Philoso- 
pher than the soul of man. The latter cannot be weighed on a 
counter, or be shipped off to the Baltic by steam. No men make 
better surveyors of land than the Anglo-Saxons ; none can steer a 
ship like them. In the physical world, from Spitzbergen to the 
utmost South, they are lords of the ascendant. This practical, 
Aristotelian tendency pervades all things, science, jurisprudence, 
politics, education, religion. Everywhere the questions are sound- 
ing, Where has he been ? Whither is he bound ? What is the value 
of that article ? Which school-book or school-teacher or minister is 
the cheapest ? We have heard even of clergymen who estimated 
the conversion of a congregation of immortal souls at so much a 
head — who were willing to assess a sort of poll-tax on salvation. In 
science we have no great discoverers. We have practical philoso- 
phers — scientific explorers — men who can divide off and parcel out 
to good advantage the treasures which have been accumulated in 
past times. It is no disproof of our general position that many 
eminent names might be mentioned in physical science. We love 
the outward. Our home is in the visible. 

Here and there, indeed, an individual may be found who is 
weary of this ceaseless stir, of this insane eagerness after the 
perishable and the transient. His ears are pained by the incessant 
clamors of buyers and sellers. He longs for repose, for calm medita- 
tion, for a secure retreat from his jostling and inquisitive contempo- 
raries. Such men, however, are few and far between. The ten- 
dency to bustle and agitation, to digging and hoarding is widely pre- 
dominant. The epithets acute, practical, quick-witted, impatient, 
sharp-sighted, delineate the Saxon races on the two continents, 
or rather on the four continents, and the islands of almost every sea. 

In thus characterizing the English mind, we only repeat the gen- 
eral verdict of intelligent Englishmen. " Our utilitarian practical- 
ity" says a late writer, " is a theme that has often been discussed. 
It is impossible to contrast the condition of any one branch of sci- 
ence or literature in England with its condition on the continent, and 
especially in Germany, without becoming sensible of the all-perva- 
ding influence of this tendency of the British character." 1 " What- 
ever the causes may be," says the Bishop of London, " the fact 
cannot be denied, that we have comparatively few really classical 



J For. Quart. Rev. No. 44. p. 238, 



INTRODUCTION. 



5 



scholars, few who enter deeply into the study of the Greek language, 
into the examination of its structure, of its formations, of its analo- 
gies." 1 

An interesting question here arises. What occasions this marked 
difference between the Germans and the English ? They were 
originally one. They belong to the same stock, and their languages 
to the same family. They are alike in the substantial qualities of 
mental and moral character. Why the prominent existing dissimi- 
larity ? England has not been always what she is now. Once the 
English spirit deeply sympathized with the Platonic. A long roll of 
revered names might be unfolded that all of us have been wont 
to love and admire. 

A principal cause is unquestionably geographical position. Great 
Britain is an island, and she has immense colonial possessions in 
every quarter of the earth. The United States have a very extend- 
ed sea-coast, with numerous harbors and large rivers. We have 
thus every incitement to spread ourselves over a large surface. The 
call to physical effort is loud and unceasing. On the contrary the 
Germans are shut up in the centre of Europe. Almost everything 
has conspired to keep them at home. We are the couriers and the 
carriers of the whole earth. The Germans are the purveyors of 
mind. They carry on a commerce of intellect. They are psycho- 
logical adventurers. While we are making ships, they are manu- 
facturing theories. While we are harpooning the monster of the 
northern ocean, they are defining the limits of old and new Platon- 
ism, or demonstrating that the chorus in the Agamemnon of ^Eschy- 
lus consisted of twelve old men, and not of fifteen. 

Another cause is found in the nature of the governments. The 
British government has been for a long time essentially republican. 
Freedom of thought and of speech is unfettered. The political 
world has opened a thousand avenues for practical effort, which have 
been eagerly entered. " A few minor minds may peck with lauda- 
ble industry at the luxuriant fruitage of German erudition ; but our 
great intellects, our original discoverers, our secret miners and pub- 
lic heaven-stormers are all in the senate." 2 It is not necessary to 
say how different is the state of things in Germany. An iron-hand- 
ed government there controls everything. Liberty means what the 
royal vocabulary makes it mean. There are no Burkes nor Chat- 



1 London Quart. Rev. No. 101. 



2 For. Quart. Rev. 



6 



INTRODUCTION. 



hams. There is no Junius nor Wilkes to set at defiance the powers 
that be. The great engine of freedom — the newspaper press — is 
an insignificant affair. The mind is necessarily turned inward. 
Meditation, reverie, or prying investigations into old and distant ob- 
jects become a fixed habit. One mode of action being effectually 
barricaded, the soul breaks out with violence into another. 

An additional occasion of the difference in question lies in the an- 
tagonist systems of philosophy. In the British world, Bacon, Locke 
and Paley have long been the masters. The end which Bacon propos- 
ed to himself was fruit ; it was the relief of man's estate ; it was to 
enrich human life with new inventions and powers. Philanthropy, 
he says, was so fixed in his mind that it could not be removed. 
Wherever Locke has been read, men have not fallen into the errors 
of the Middle Ages. He has promoted anything rather than the 
building of cloisters or the re-publication of Plato. The influence 
of Paley, perhaps, has been equally great with that of Locke ; it 
certainly has been entirely correspondent. The Germans, however, 
have launched forth to the other extreme. It is said that Kant's sys- 
tem is in ruins ; but Kant's influence is not. Other systems, it has 
been observed, have rolled over his, and have been themselves in 
turn displaced. Yet all these systems have conspired to one general 
effect. They have all been at antipodes to Locke and Paley, they 
have all made war upon the sensual and the outward. The basis of 
every theory has been laid upon the internal and the independent 
powers of the human soul. Hence the German language is so rich 
in all the terms which are applied to spiritual phenomena. 

Another powerful cause is the modern revival of Christianity and 
the awakened spirit of missionary enterprise which have pervaded 
England and the United States far more than they have Germany. 
Multitudes are running to and fro. Almost every land is beginning 
to feel the practical beneficence of those who speak the English 
tongue. While the Germans are speculating nobly, and erecting 
monuments to their patient industry, to their vast and learned re- 
search, to their metaphysical acumen, the Englishman and American 
may point for their memorials to Howard's grave at Cherson, and 
further on to Martyn's at Tocat ; to the raised letters which are giv- 
ing eyes to the blind — to the Bible Society, sublimer than all the 
proud achievements of the scholars who rise up by thousands in the 
universities of the continent. 



INTRODUCTION. 



7 



We may remark, however, that there is no good reason for 
these two diametrically opposite tendencies. Men were not made 
merely for action or speculation. In following either course ex- 
clusively, they sin against the nature which God has given them. 
We have no cause to laugh at the airy course of the spiritual phi- 
losopher. We need not shrug our shoulders in proud self-com- 
placency when we talk of German mysticism. We are not called 
upon to identify every form of nonsense, which appears among us, 
with the name of transcendentalism. We are not authorized to 
term every outbreak of error in Saxony or Switzerland with the im- 
posing title of the newest fashion in German theology. 1 We may 
well spare such demonstrations of our ignorance and self-conceit. 
On the other hand, the Germans might well copy our excellent prac- 
tical habits. An infusion into the German mind of the old, sound, 
substantial English sense would be of inestimable worth. They 
ought to read Dr. Dwight's Sermons, and the works of Dr. Paley. 
They should become familiar with such men as Thomas Scott and 
Claudius Buchanan. John Newton's Letters and Cowper's poetry 
would do good service among the followers of Fichte and Hegel. 
They say that we are incapable of understanding their writings, that 
we scorn that which we have not mind enough to understand. With 
equal truth, we might affirm that they do not understand us. They 
have cultivated one tendency to such an extent, that they cannot see 
the substantial excellencies of a writer like Dr. Paley. If we 
have neglected the reason and the imagination, they have underval- 
ued the sense and the practical understanding. 

It is the wisdom, therefore, of both parties to adopt a more en- 
larged course of thinking and action. It would do our young scho- 
lars no harm to read the Dialogues of Plato — not so much for any 
philosophical theory which they contain, not so much for the sake of 
any immediate practical utility, as to become familiar with the accu- 
rate distinctions which he makes on the great questions in morals 
and religion that he discusses, and especially to become imbued 
with his noble spirit — to partake in his lofty aspirations, and to be 
thankful for that better light that we enjoy, but which was denied 
him. There is much in German literature of the highest value 
which we might well transfer to our language. How little we know 
of the great geography of Bitter ? How contented are our book- 
makers to go on year by year copying Malte Brun ? What do we 
1 See a late Letter of Dr. Malan of Geneva. 



8 



INTRODUCTION. 



know of the profound historians Leo, Luden, Schlosser, Wachler, 
Ranke, Von Hammer— none of them neologists ? A long list of 
writers in other departments we might name, but it is unnecessary. 

In the preceding considerations, one reason may be discovered for 
the appearance of the present volume. 1 The translators have cher- 
ished the hope that something might be done to break down the wall 
of national prejudice, and to correct an exclusive tendency which 
cannot but be injurious. They have wished to contribute something 
to aid the better feeling, which is beginning to spring up between 
those who speak the German and the English tongues, and to pro- 
mote that brotherly intercourse which is so becoming and which 
may be made so useful to both parties. 

There are several additional considerations, which have influen- 
ced the translators of the present volume, in thus appearing before 
the public. One of these is, the well known tendency of acquaint- 
ance with foreign authors to enlarge and liberalize the mind. The 
man who never travelled out of his native county, is apt to be a man 
of prejudices. A new language is to the inward being what a new 
eye is to the outward ; one sees with it what he could not have seen 
without it ; and by examining such developments of humanity as are 
not found among his own kindred, he learns to value substance more, 
and form less. Creatures of custom as we are, we are prone to 
look upon everything habitual as right of course, and everything un- 
common as wrong. Unfashionable is another name for monstrous. 
When a blind adherence to the standard of present fashion is limit- 
ed to matters of secular concern, it narrows the mind ; but when it 
extends to theology, it cripples the very sentiments which should be 
most expanded. It makes men partizans, when they ought to be 
philanthropists. The Bible is one of the freest books ever written. 
Its style is as unlike that of our scholastic systems, as the costume 
of the oriental is unlike the pinching garb of the Englishman. It 
never intended that men should abridge its freeness, and press it 
forcibly into the mould of any human compend. We approve of 

i We may here mention that another volume is in the course of transla- 
tion which will be entirely devoted to Plato and Aristotle. It will include 
the Life of Aristotle by Dr. A. Stahr of Halle, and a Comparison of Plato- 
nism with Christianity by Prof. Baur of Tubingen. It will also contain an 
estimate of the character of both these philosophers, with illustrations from 
the recent commentators upon their writings. 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

creeds : they are useful, needful ; but ihere is a difference— is there 
not — between respecting and adoring them. We prefer to see men 
shaping their creeds so as to suit the Bible, rather than to see them 
shaping the Bible so as to suit their creeds. There is reason to fear, 
that while the language of our confessions of faith is in some cases 
too pliant, bending to interpretations that are subversive of each 
other, it is in other cases too stiff and strait ; giving no heed to some 
valuable modifications of thought, which reason approves, and al- 
lowing no place for some statements of inspiration, which always 
look somewhat strange alongside of the creed, and which can be dis- 
posed of the most satisfactorily by the divine who is most of a law- 
yer. It is to be feared, for instance, that some special pleading is 
required for such an explanation of Matt. 11: 21. Luke 10: 13, as 
will make them harmonize with the inflexible language of certain 
compends in reference to the doctrine of human passivity in regen- 
eration. It is to be feared, that there is a scholastic mode of stating 
the doctrine of the saints' perseverance, which can be shown to be in 
keeping with the inspired entreaties against apostasy, by none but 
very ingenious and witty men. It is to be apprehended, that many, 
influenced more by the narrowness of a creed than the freeness of 
the Bible, when they repeat such passages as Heb. 6: 4 — 6. 10: 26 
— 32. 2 Pet. 2: 20 — 22, secretly look upon them as a kind of ma- 
noeuvre, rather than as an expression of honest fear. Has not the 
reader himself been haunted with something like this suspicion of 
artifice, even when he dared not breathe it to his own conscience ? 
and have not these passages, when invested with certain technical 
explanations, seemed to be in a strait-jacket, or at least not exactly 
at their ease ? 

Now in measuring our faith by the symbols of any single sect, we 
are often obliged to cut off some positive instructions, direct or indi- 
rect, of the Bible. Robert Hall's Preface to Antinomianism Unmask- 
ed, contains several invaluable hints on this topic. " When religious 
parties have been long formed," he says, "a certain technical phrase- 
ology, invented to designate more exactly the peculiarities of the res- 
pective systems, naturally grows up. What custom has sanctioned, in 
process of time becomes law ; and the slightest deviation from the 
consecrated diction comes to be viewed with suspicion and alarm. 
Now the technical language, appropriated to the expression of the 
Calvinistic system in its nicer shades, however justifiable in itself, 

2 



10 



INTRODUCTION. 



has, by its perpetual recurrence, narrowed the vocabulary of religion, 
and rendered obsolete many modes of expression which the sacred 
writers indulge without scruple. The latitude, with which they ex- 
press themselves on various subjects, has been gradually relinquish- 
ed ; a scrupulous and systematic cast of diction has succeeded to the 
manly freedom and noble negligence they were accustomed to dis- 
play ; and many expressions, employed without hesitation in Scrip- 
ture, are rarely found, except in the direct form of quotation, in the 
mouth of a modern Calvinist. In addition to this, nothing is more 
usual than for the zealous abettors of a system, with the best inten- 
tions, to magnify the importance of its peculiar tenets by hyperboli- 
cal exaggerations, calculated to identify them with the fundamental 
articles of faith. Thus the Calvinistic doctrines 1 have often been 
denominated by divines of deservedly high reputation, the doctrines 
of grace; implying, not merely their truth, but that they constitute 
the very essence and marrow of the gospel. Hence persons of lit- 
tle reflection have been tempted to conclude, that the zealous incul- 
cation of these, comprehends nearly the whole system of revealed 
truth ; or as much of it, at least, as is of vital importance ; and that 
no danger whatever can result from giving them the greatest possible 
prominence. But the transition from a partial exhibition of truth to 
the adoption of positive error is a most natural one ; and he who 
commences with consigning certain important doctrines to oblivion 
will generally end in perverting or denying them." 2 

Now there is a strong tendency in the members of every sect, to 
narrow down their views to the standard of a sectarian creed. 
Hence the necessity that good men of different denominations should 
have frequent interchange of thought and feeling. And there is a strong 
tendency in the inhabitants of one land to exalt certain terms, which 
their fathers used, into tests of orthodoxy, and to circumscribe the 
teachings of the Bible, within a few national shibboleths. Hence 
the importance of looking away from our own land, and seeing 
phases that truth assumes elsewhere. We shall thus find, that 
modes of exhibition, which we have thought essential to a sound the- 
ology, are discountenanced by sound theologians who live under 

1 [The " Calvinistic doctrines 1 ' are here spoken of as distinguished from 
the Lutheran, or other evangelical systems. — Eds ] 

2 See Hall's Works, Vol. II. pp. 458—466. See also Cecil's Remains, p. 
191, Andover Ed. 



INTRODUCTION. 



other skies ; and that modes which we have always regarded as pre- 
cursors, if not representatives of fatal error, are regarded by them as 
the safeguards of truth. We are alarmed at their peculiarities, and 
they are equally alarmed at ours. We are wondering at them, and 
they are amazed at our wonder. All this is a lesson to us. It teaches 
us, that the spirit of truth will live, when any particular body of it has 
died. It teaches us, that no mere modes are the articles of a stand- 
ing or a falling church. It teaches us, that wise men and good 
men have philosophized differently, and yet have had one Lord, one 
faith, one baptism. We learn from it, that those two disciples of 
the Wittemberg reformer were more earnest in contending for the 
faith, than wise in determining what it was, when they began to 
beat each other, because one avowed himself a Martinist, while his 
combatant had been brought up a Lutheran. We learn from it, 
that if men will unite in one theology, they may be allowed to come 
to it through whatever by-paths of philosophy seem best to them. It 
is well, if we be full-grown, to see as many different faces as we 
can ; to hear as many different voices ; so we shall learn that hu- 
manity is everywhere one and the same, though its aspects are often 
various. Men from the northward will believe that water freezes, 
though the king of Siam may declare such belief heretical. As 
men do not look alike, nor talk alike, so they do not, in all respects, 
philosophize alike. They never have, and perhaps never will. So long 
as their temperaments vary, there will be variety in their theorizings. 
It is an old " dilemma" of the schoolmen, " there are two things 

o 

which we ought not to fret about ; what we can help, and what we 
can not :" now we think that mere speculative, as distinct from 
theological differences, come under the latter " conditional," and it 
seems idle then to go to exscinding our brethren on account of them. 
A wise Christian will devote his energies to make all men unite in 
fundamental doctrine ; and will not be afraid of the World's coming 
to an end, because men, who agree in faith, differ on its philosophi- 
cal relations. We believe that some among us are troubled over 
much about the speculative notions of the day. It is well to be cau- 
tious— not so well to be in a fright. It is a good thing to give heed 
lest the spirit of our religion be circumscribed or expelled ; but it is 
needless to raise a panic because one man prefers this mode and 
another that of explaining the one faith. Let not the grasshopper 
become a burden to us, while we are so young as a people. No 



12 



INTRODUCTION. 



greater evil has come upon us than has come upon other lands, and 
other ages. And yet the world moves on, as it did aforetime. We 
desire that men may be more true to their nature, as beings of 
" large discourse, looking before and after," and neither blown about 
by every wind of doctrine, nor fear-stricken as though some strange 
thing had happened, when the mind springs one of its artificial bars. 
Let us see what has been thought and said in other days, and we 
shall have the health-giving assurance, that truth will live on, though 
we cannot keep it always decked out, as Turretin or Gomar may 
have prescribed. Let us see how men, good and true, are now 
speculating in foreign climes, and we shall be convinced, that the 
sky does not close in with the earth four or five miles from the spot 
where we happen to stand, however central that spot may be. 
There are things in the world that we have never yet heard of. 
Then is it not well to have a mind capacious enough and liberal 
enough to examine, without dismal forebodings, a form of philoso- 
phy, even though it may not have been laid down in the standards ? 
Is it not well to keep our balance, like the town clerk of Ephesus, 
and the doctor of the law before the Sanhedrim ? l We should be 
glad to count up the instances, that have come to our knowledge, 
of sanguine men, who, at a period of peculiar religious encourage- 
ment, have seen evidences of the immediate approach of the Millen- 
nium ; and the instances of melancholy men, who, at a period of 
peculiar religious conflict, have had no doubt, that it was the last 
letting loose of evil. We wish that all men of such " quick infe- 
rence 1 ' would remember, that what is usual in one sphere is not 
therefore a universal law ; and that what is new to them, be it in 
theology or philosophy, may be old and even stale to more knowing 
men than they. We are not sure that the present volume contains 
a single thought, of any importance, which is not already familiar to 
the reader ; but it perhaps contains some new modifications of 
thought, which will deepen the impression, that the great realities of 
our religion may consist with diversified modes ; that we are bound 
to cleave by all means to the realities, and to be neither indifferent 
nor bigoted about the modes. 2 

1 Acts 19: 35—41. 5: 34— 3j>. 

2 " We may notice." says Prof. Robinson, " as a happy trait in the char- 
acter of German Christians, the absence of a censorious spirit. There are 
indeed, in that country as well as in others, those who esteem it their duty 



INTRODUCTION. 



13 



Another consideration which has induced the translators to present 
this volume to the public, is the fact that German theological re- 
searches afford a striking illustration of the power of truth. The 
concurrence of distinct testimonies furnishes an argument, additional 
to that derived from either of the testimonies themselves, in favor of 
the fact attested ; and when the witnesses have had no communion 
or acquaintance with each other, especially when they are so diverse 
in character as to be repulsive to each other, their agreement gives 
a new proof of the fact on which they agree. That Jew and Gen- 
tile, learned and unlearned, bond and free, have united in their ad- 
miration of the character of our Saviour, is a collateral argument in 
favor of that character ; just as when connoisseurs and novices, 
in fair weather and in foul, standing on a higher and on a lower point 
of observation, have united in their admiration of a picture or a 
monument, we feel an increased assurance that the work of art is 
modeled after a true standard. Our confidence in evangelical doc- 
trine does not depend on human authority, and yet we feel the more 
confidence in it when the Aristotelian and the Platonist bow down 
before it, and when, though each of them censures the other, they 
both do reverence to the teachings of Jesus. We feel, at such a 
time, that these teachings take deep hold of the elements of the hu- 
man mind. We feel that divine truth is magnetic, and whenever 
factitious prejudices do not hold back, it draws all intellects unto it. 
When we survey the English and the German schools, we find that 
many, who started in seemingly opposite directions, have met at 
last on the same ground ; that though the processes are different, 
the results are often the same ; and if both schools should follow the 
advice given to an English jurist, to state their opinions, but not 
their reasons for them, many who seem to differ now, would be found 

to watch over the spiritual, as well as temporal concerns of their neighbors, 
and to make their own views and opinions the standard to which all others 
should conform. But as a general fact, this is not the character of Chris- 
tians in Germany. If a brother agrees with them in essentials, they are 
willing to bear and to forbear with him in regard to other matters ; and by 
the exhibition of meekness and gentleness seek rather to win him over upon 
minor points, than by disapprobation and censure drive him to a greater dis- 
tance from them. They abstain from : judging one another, remembering" 
that the kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteousness and peace, 
and joy in the Holy Ghost.' Indeed this would seem to be the true chris- 
tian tolerance.'' Bib. Repos. Vol. 1. pp. 446 — 7. 



14 



INTRODUCTION. 



essentially to agree. Americans have defended the evangelical system 
after a simple view of it ; they have founded it on the principles of 
common sense, and the plain meaning of the Bible. The Germans 
have taken a more complex view of it ; they have compared it with 
what they call a more spiritual philosophy ; they have tested it by a 
more scholar-like interpretation, and the result has been that many 
of them have ended their circuit at our own goal. We have con- 
demned them as too visionary ; they have condemned us as too 
empirical ; but the high and the low have met together in the be- 
lief, that what we technically call the evangelical system is, in its 
main features, the very system believed and taught by the apostles. 
Said one of their most orthodox commentators, after reading Dwight's 
Theology, " If this is the reasoning of a leader in the American 
church, what must the people be !" and yet the conclusions at which 
that leader arrived, and the spiritual state of that people, are essen- 
tially the same to which this critic is endeavoring to raise his own 
countrymen. Now we rightfully derive an argument in favor of 
our decisions of common sense, from the fact of their agreement 
with the results of German dialectics. It is often asked, what one 
important truth has been exhibited in this or that German treatise, 
which has not been explained, in a simpler and clearer style, by our 
New England divines ? Suppose that we answer, not one ; sup- 
pose that we admit that Twesten on Sin, for example, proves labo- 
riously and yet darkly, nothing more than some of our own preachers 
have made clear to men, women, and children. What then ? Is 
there no value in a new way of maintaining an old truth ? Is there 
no satisfaction in seeing a recondite philosophy, and a historical in- 
vestigation, lend their aid to what we have believed simply because 
we knew it to be true ? It may indeed be replied to the above, that 
the advocates of error in our land may plead, in their favor, a like 
agreement with many German divines. But to this it may be briefly 
rejoined, that while we must assign some special cause for water's 
flowing up hill, we need not, for its flowing down. 

Again, we have adopted our theological opinions with but little 
opposition from others. The evangelical divines of Germany have 
adopted and sustained theirs, after a contesting of every inch of 
ground. They have fought for every Greek particle and every illa- 
tive conjunction. Their faith has gone through the burning fiery 
furnace, and has come out whole. Fires that we have known little 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

about, have purified their gold, which is of the same temper with 
ours. From its passing through such an ordeal, we prize it the 
more highly. It should seem that whatever can be done for the 
downfall of our religion, has been done in vain. 

Si Pergama dextra 
Defendi possent, etiam hac defensa fuissent. 

Though German skepticism may shake our confidence for a moment, 
it will be the means of strengthening it at the last. Rational faith is 
that which can " give a reason" for its existence, and is able to 
" convince gainsayers." That belief, which has never encountered 
one rough blast, is apt to be of hot-bed growth, sickly, ready to die. 
It is apt to afford pretext for the sarcasm of Hume, that " our most 
holy religion is founded on faith, not on reason." Not that every 
mind should be recklessly exposed to the attacks of the infidel ; 
what we contend for is, that as many as can bear it should see the' 
triumphs of evangelical doctrine over its cunningest foes. 

Still further, many of those who have espoused the evangelical 
system in Germany, have done it after a vigorous contest in their 
own minds. Their early prejudices, the fashions of the dav, the 
pride of learning, the whole system of their education, have' been 
like a torrent bearing them on to infidelity. But they have strug- 
gled hard for the truth ; they have worked their way into it against 
all these hindrances. It is not exactly so, however ; truth has 
struggled hard with them ; it has dragged them along, while they 
have been wrestling to get free ; and it has brought them out into a 
safe place, in spite of themselves. In their child-like frankness of 
manner, some of them avow, to-day, their wish and their hope to 
prove this doctrine true, and to prove that false ; and to-morrow they 
come in sad-hearted; they cannot succeed in their essayings. 
They have done their best ; but the evidence is against them. Now 
the doctrine, which they wish to prove, is what we call heretical ; 
that which they have tried in vain to disprove, is what we call evan- 
gelical. They have thus paid a homage to truth which we love to 
see. The history of Tholuck's mind, in reference to the doctrine of 
eternal punishment, is one illustration of this power in the principles 
of the Gospel to bind the reason to them, so long as the reason does 
nottelierts name^ We legitimately confide more in the decisions 

* A similar remark, with some modifications, may be made in respect to 
Schleiermacher's change of opinion on less essential points. 



INTRODUCTION. 

of a man who has been led by argument against his will, than of one 
who was " born into" his present faith, or has been allured into it 
by the smiles of fashion, or prejudice, or interest. 

But once more ; a large number of German theologians deny the 
divine authority of the Bible. This is true at the present moment, 
though the tendency of their minds is in a process of change for the 
betted, and the day is not far distant, we believe, when the results of 
all their speculation will be, a general acquiescence in the funda- 
mental truths of religion. But even now, these ministers of the 
New Testament, which they regard as of like authority with the 
Memorabilia of Xenophon, these doctors of divinity, who believe in 
no other God than the universe itself, are paying daily contributions 
to the cause of sound principle. They are free-born men ; they are 
partial to none of the sects, but look with pity on all ; they care not 
what the Bible teaches, whether this or that, for they are not going 
to be swayed bv its decisions ; and yet out of mere curiosity and m 
the spirit of antiquarian research, they apply their critical acumen to 
unfold its real meaning. In this state of freedom from hopes and 
fears, unshackled by creeds, unbiassed by sectarian predilections, 
they come to the conclusion that the Bible teaches, for substance, 
just what our Puritan fathers have said that it teaches. They de- 
dare, that if they believed the Bible, they would also believe in the 
correlative doctrines of depravity, regeneration and atonement ; and 
that no man can be consistent with himself, who thinks that book to 
be inspired, and at the same time rejects the main peculiarities of the 
Lutheran or Calvinistic symbols. They declare their conviction 
then, that the only alternative is, infidelity or orthodoxy. We feel 
strengthened by the judgment of these great men. There are but 
few among us, who are willing to abandon the orthodox faith for the 
infidel. It is doing less violence to the moral feelings to repose m 
some convenient arbor midway between the two. If there be found 
no such resting place, we have respect enough for the sensibilities 
of man, to believe that some, at least, will choose what they now re- 
gard as too rigid, rather than what all experience proves licentious. 
& Another consideration, influencing the translators of the present 
volume, has been the fact, that our community have seen fewer spe- 
cimens than would be useful, of the religious sentiment of the Ger- 

» For an illustration of some of the preceding remarks, see pages 293— 
298 of this volume ; and also the two translations from Rilckert. 



INTRODUCTION. 



17 



mans. The name of Germany has been often associated with cold- 
ness of feeling. It is not thought to be the land of warm-hearted 
and of free-hearted friends. Much study is thought to have frozen 
up the fountains of emotion there, and to have made men little else 
than dry plodding scholars, seldom refreshed with an outflow from 
the heart. It is needless to say that this estimate of the sensibility 
of the Germans is unjust. Their frankness and fulness of feeling is 
what we should do well to imitate. We come the nearer to withered 
trees. What one of them has said of the English, he would also 
apply to us ; " In the pulpit they are all head, and no heart." The 
history of the German mind furnishes a good illustration of the truth, 
that intellectual excitement need not absorb the affections ; that on 
the other hand, it may quicken and strengthen them. Such is 
the relation between the different provinces of our intellectual being, 
that improvement in one province, tends to improvement in another, 
and if the ideas are clear and bright, the feelings may be the more 
lively and deep. This tendency is indeed often resisted ; the re- 
verse often seems to be the fact. Good men have sometimes 
avoided " much study," through fear of becoming skeletons in 
their religious as well as physical nature. But they have mistaken 
a perversion for a law. Where is there more severity of mental 
discipline, than among the German scholars? From childhood 
upward their intellect is rigorously tasked ; and yet they live long 
and happily ; their feelings, instead of being compressed, have 
free vent ; and the fault to be found with their expressions of senti- 
ment is, not so much that they are unnaturally cold, as that they are 
unnaturally extravagant. There is often a mawkishness in the sen- 
timentalism of the Germans, which would not exist if they were 
more practical men : still there is often a depth in it which is rarely 
equalled among us. They regard our manifestations of religious 
feeling as torpid ; if we were more familiar with theirs, we should 
oftener regard them as rhapsodical. We think of a neological 
preacher as an impersonation of frigid intellect ; and yet his mode 
of composing and delivering his sermons is often more like that of 
our fanatics, than like that of our judicious divines. He is kindled 
into fervor by moonbeams. When this constitutional sensibility is 
sanctified, it has some new, interesting features. Its characteristics 
are like those of the pious monks, who were so much the more inti- 
mate with their Saviour, as they were cloistered from the world ; 
3 



18 



INTRODUCTION. 



not so healthy in their devotions as they were earnest ; not working 
with their hands for the welfare of the church, not going about doing 
good, but still their life hid with Christ in God. It may not be unin- 
teresting, then, to see such specimens of the religious sentiment 
among the Germans, as are exhibited in some portions of this 
volume. Certainly it will not be unprofitable, if we learn from them 
the consistency between severe thought and fervid affections ; and 
if we try to sympathize with their warm gushing expressions of trust 
and love. Let us divest ourselves, for the moment, of national par- 
tialities, and open our hearts to the influence of a piety that has 
grown up on an uncongenial soil, amid tares and thorns. We shall 
see that the spirit of the Gospel is essentially the same, with what- 
ever robes it may be invested ; that good men, everywhere and at 
all times, have the same joys and sorrows, hopes and fears. We 
shall be more inclined, perhaps, to look upon the whole christian 
church as a brotherhood ; arrayed in vestments of different hue, 
their individuality marked by dissimilar features, but the same blood 
flowing in the veins of all, and the pulse beating with the same life. 
The voice of the American and that of the German are unlike in 
compass and are on different keys ; but the gutturals of the one and 
the sibilants of the other make pleasant concord in the songs of Zion. 

Intimately connected with the preceding, is another consideration 
which has actuated the translators of this volume. It is the desire which 
has been often felt, to see in an English dress, more specimens of 
the German style of preaching. The discourses of Krummacher 
have, been recently well received in Great Britain and America, but, 
apart from these, little has been known among us of the mode in 
which German theology has affected the ministrations of the pulpit. 
It might perhaps have been more useful to select, for this volume, 
sermons from various authors, instead of selecting them all from one. 
But as the evangelical portion of our countrymen have felt a peculiar 
interest in Prof. Tholuck, it has been thought advisable to select 
from him alone. The translator is not ignorant, that the dis- 
courses here presented have deficiencies and faults ; ] that their au- 
thor indulges too much in antithesis, in forced comparison, in exu- 
berance of even good metaphor, and in various peculiarities that of- 
fend a correct taste. If a critic wishes to illustrate certain infelicities of 

1 The faults of Tholuck 's style of writing- are alluded to in Note A to the 
first Article in this volume, and on pp. 220, 221, 222, 224, and others. 



1 



INTRODUCTION. 19 

style, he will find undoubted specimens of them in the sermons of 
Prof. Tholuck. These sermons were not designed to be models 
of fine writing, but to do good to the men who heard them. Had 
their author adhered more closely to the canons of true rhetoric, 
he had done more wisely, but then he would not have been Tholuck ; 
and, as it is, we are disposed to derive as much pleasure as we can 
from his excellences, and to apologize, as far as candor will allow, 
for his faults. 

We think that candor will admit various apologies. In the first 
place, Tholuck's reading has been too multifarious to permit that dil- 
igent study of models, which is essential to a finished style. Se- 
condly, his attention has been so much directed to the writings of 
Jewish Rabbins, and to the finical compositions of the middle ages, 
that we could not expect his taste to remain unvitiated. It is the 
man of one choice book, who, in some respects, is the least liable to 
injure his sensibilities to the beautiful : it is the man of many books, 
and particularly of such as are written with the monastic pruriency 
of imagination, who is most in danger of mistaking an artificial heat, 
for the glow of life. Thirdly, the mind of Tholuck is too excitable 
and his avocations are too numerous, to allow such a severe recen- 
sion of his first draughts, as is necessary for chaste and correct wri- 
ting. Fourthly, he wrote for the Germans and not for the Ameri- 
cans. We always do injustice to an author, by comparing his efforts 
with our standard rather than his own. Who does not admire the 
discourses of Jeremy Taylor, and John Howe ? and yet what would 
be thought of a preacher, at the present time, who should write pre- 
cisely after their model ? What would be thought of a poet, who 
should employ nowadays, the same similes which Homer, or Virgil, 
or Shakspeare employed ? What would become of the eloquence 
of Burke, if his speeches were delivered, in his own way, to an in- 
land congregation of our countrymen ? We are not intending to 
compare Tholuck with these men ; but simply to say, that we al- 
ways wrong a speaker or writer, when we overlook the standard 
which he had in mind; and imagine a different class of hearers or 
readers in his view, from those whom he actually addressed. We 
should always regard with some forbearance the errors of an author, 
when he has adopted them in sympathy with the public taste, and 
when in despite of them he exerts a marked influence over mind. 

In addition to these palliative circumstances, some of which are 



20 



INTRODUCTION. 



peculiar to Tholuck, there are others which are common to him and 
his countrymen, and may be therefore more properly noticed here- 
after. We would not, however, be disposed to regard Tholuck as a 
mere subject for an apology. The excellences of his style of 
preaching cannot be so appropriately mentioned here, as in a subse- 
quent part of the volume ; and they are therefore considered some- 
what fully in our Sketch of his Life and Character. 1 We think in 
the first place, that his excellences overbalance his faults. Strange 
indeed would it be, if a scholar of his varied acquisition, and a 
Christian of his living enthusiasm, should not express himself in the 
pulpit so as to do more good than hurt. But in the second place, 
even if it were otherwise, we should regard his discourses with 
interest as intellectual phenomena, as exhibiting the workings of a 
confessedly superior mind, and the tastes of a people, who in the 
words of Jean Paul, " hold the empire of the air." It cannot cer- 
tainly be a fruitless occupation to analyze the discourses of a man, 
who, though trained in the Academy, is yet a favorite minister with 
the peasants, is often met by them in his walks and thanked for the 
spiritual blessings which have flowed from his sermons; who is also 
a favorite preacher with the students at the University, with some of 
the Rationalists even, and is often the means of winning them to the 
simplicity of the christian faith. They will sometimes hiss or 
murmur in the Lecture-Room, when he impugns some assertion of 
Gesenius, but on the next Sabbath, they will throng around his 
pulpit. German reviewers of his discourses, though they condemn 
some of his peculiar traits, award him a high meed of praise ; and 
if we must adopt a modified eulogium, we yet may be interested in 
seeing what they so much admire. A reviewer in the Studien und 
Kritiken for 1835, says of him, Ubi plurima nitent, haud ego paucis 
offendar maculis ; and even Bretschneider, notwithstanding his 
neological predilections, speaks of the fifth sermon in this volume, the 
very one which we should deem most obnoxious to his censure, as 
a clear proof of Tholuck's power over mind. 

In the third place, we think that Dr. Tholuck's sermons will sug- 
gest some important queries in relation to the style of preaching 
prevalent in our own land. His excellences are those in which we 
are most deficient, and many of his faults are but his beauties 
carried too far. It may be well for us to compare our style of 

1 See pages 220 — 226 and several passages in the notes, pp. 170 — 198. 



INTRODUCTION. 



21 



preaching with his, and see the different results which flow from our 
different intellectual training. We shall doubtless find much that is 
flattering to us ; but let us not be reluctant to acknowledge our 
imperfections. The preaching of New England is perhaps, all 
things considered, superior to that of any other country. But we 
should not be the wise men we pretend to be, could we derive no 
benefit from a comparison of our homiletics with that of men whose 
intellect has been more severely tasked than ours, and who have 
let their imagination go more free. 

It may be worth an inquiry, whether there is not sometimes a 
want of just proportion in our exercises of the sanctuary. Is there 
not a prevalent idea that edification embraces nothing but intellectual 
improvement ? Is there not a tendency to let argument feed on 
worship ? to abridge the singing and the prayer, so as to accommo- 
date a lengthened discussion ? to make the sermon too much of an 
absorbent, and to give logic the sceptre in the house of devotion ? 
The sermons of Tholuck err on the side of brevity ; do not ours 
sometimes err on the side of length and monopoly ? His error is 
greater than ours, as deficiency is always worse than redundancy ; 
we should be sorry to exchange our " metaphysics" for his want of 
it ; still should not the smaller error be corrected ? and if there be a 
desire to deliver " great sermons," should they be allowed to be- 
come great by swallowing up the exercises which are more dis- 
tinctively devotional ? 

Again, are not our preachers too often fettered by professional 
rules ? Do they give their mind free play ? Do they not lose their 
personal identity, and merge themselves into one standard character ; 
no one being a man really, but every one an impersonation of the 
rules ; every one standing, writing, speaking just so, on penalty of 
being " rather a singular man for a preacher." How little of home in 
the pulpit ; of a real, natural breathing, and living there ! How 
much of the realist's idea of man ; every body in general, nobody 
in particular. Have not rules come to be our masters, instead of 
being our servants ? It is as useful to have rules as creeds ; but 
let them be incorporated into the life, and not remain as " dried 
preparations." It is well and best, that the preacher be as one " set 
apart" in the pulpit ; but why need he cease to speak like a fellow 
being, of like sympathies with his hearers ; and why cease to be 
himself? It may be that Tholuck carries his humanity, and his 



22 



INTRODUCTION. 



freedom from rule too far ; " his specific difference" is sometimes 
too apparent ; but his license is no excuse for our thraldom ; and 
we may perhaps learn from him, as well as others like him, how 
goodly it is for one who has the preacher's high office, to manifest a 
kindred feeling with his race ; to show that he is a husband, and 
father, and brother, notwithstanding his dignity, and that a warm 
heart beats under the sacred gown. 1 

Still further, is there not too great fondness, in many of our 
preachers, for the abstract forms of statement ? Is not the pronoun 
" it" introduced, when you or he would be more tangible, and ex- 
pressive. While we estimate above all price our doctrinal instruc- 
tions, may they not be communicated to the popular mind with more 
clearness, and even with more fulness, if we will clothe them in 

1 The following is tile substance of an extract, from Tholuck's Preface to 
the New Edition of his Sermons, pp. ix. x. 

For the successful discharge of his office among the higher classes, it is 
desirable that the minister have the greatest possible cultivation of mind 
and the most extensive views. " At a time when Shakspeare is a more de- 
cisive authority for many than Paul, and a distich of Goethe is a stronger 
proof-text than the whole Epistle to the Romans and Galatians, a minister, 
who would produce an effect upon his congregation, must not be unac- 
quainted with their standard-authors. If in any situation the remark of the 
apostle may be repeated, ;; All things are yours." it may be repeated here 
also. An English preacher was found, of a Saturday, reading Gibbon, and 
in reply to a question he said, " If 1 am Christ's, then is Gibbon mine, and 
the wheat-field which also brings forth fruit for Christ." In this respect the 
preacher of our times will receive injury from the old rules which have been 
prescribed, and which seem unable to draw the boundary-line strictly 
enough between the life and the pulpit. Hence his sermon appears to the 
learned like pedantry ; like an Egyptian mummy ;— it is like dried sweet- 
meats in a glass jar. " He even used the word Russia in the pulpit," was 
the recent complaint of a nice critic. In opposition to such prudish puri- 
fiers of the language, one might prescribe with Harms, " let the preacher 
speak negligently and incorrectly."— If we would bring our educated men 
near to the pulpit, we must frequently direct their minds to that province in 
which their own life is passed. Paul who quotes Aratus in Athens, and 
Epimenides before the Cretans, will afford us a screen, if the pulpit 
censors complain of us and condemn us. There is another advantage to be 
gained by this style. It increases confidence in the person of the preacher. 
He no longer seems to be (merely) a man of consecrated caste, who speaks 
from the school ; all see that he himself has gone through with the afflic- 
tions of a hard, long life. We no longer feel as if the mere preacher were 
addressing us, but also the man." 







INTRODUCTION. 



•23 



words, which if less classical and refined, are yet more congenial 
with popular usage. It is a favorite strain of remark with Tholuck, 
that the sermon should 44 spring from the congregation, not from 
without the congregation ;" that it should be " the product of his 
mother-wit," rather than of his dialectics ; that 44 truth will often 
abide in the highest garret of the hearer's mind, without entering 
into the dwelling-room of the affections ;" that 44 there is a way from 
the heart to the head, as well as a way from the head to the heart ;" 
and that, though in the physical kingdom the light goes faster than 
the sound, yet in the spiritual, the feeling is often excited, before 
any direct appeal is made to the intellect. 1 44 William Humboldt," 
he says in his characteristic way, 2 44 styled eloquence the attaching 
of a composition to the life of the people. How much fresher would 
our discourses be, if we knew how to knit them properly with that 
which is before the eyes of all, and in the thoughts of all. Who has 
not already remarked, how often the eyes of the congregation, 
which had been moving to and fro, from right to left, would begin 
to direct themselves in a straight line to the pulpit, and how still all 
would become, as soon as the discourse passed from generals to par- 
ticulars ; to such matters of fact as were commonly known ? The 
preacher then should illustrate his theme in such a style as the 
sound, unvitiated community employ ; that is, the concrete. — When, 
for example, Luther wishes to show what the words in Matt. 5: 21 
seq. mean, and to prove that even the feeling, which may lead to 
the death-blow, is ground of condemnation, what compressed power 
is in his style ! What accommodation to the people, in contemplat- 
ing so high a sentiment ! 44 Thinkest thou," he asks, 44 that Christ 
speaks only of the fist, when he says thou shalt not kill ? What is 
the meaning of thou J Not barely thy hand or thy foot, thy tongue 
or any other single member of thy body ; but all that thou art, in 
body and in soul. Just so, if I say to any one, thou shalt not do 
this, I mean, not with the fist, but with the whole person." 

We do not wish to deny that Tholuck's brightness often becomes 
a glare ; yet even this may suggest that our occasional darkness 
should become light. But whatever may be said of the rhetorical 
character of these discourses, we hope that the pious feeling which 
is breathed in them, may impart warmth to the reader's heart ; and 
also that the exhibitions of sacred truth, which are given in various 

1 See Pref. to New Ed. of Serm. pp. 50, 51. 2 See lb. p. 48, 49. 



24 



INTRODUCTION. 



parts of this volume, may exert their appropriate influence upon his 
moral sensibilities. He will find here but little exhortation to piety; 
and piety is a feeling which does not come by barely soliciting it. 
It comes, if it come at all, by a meditation on its appropriate ob- 
jects. Men love, not merely because they are entreated to do so, 
but by beholding an object of love. And it has been a prominent 
aim of the translators, to present such themes for religious thought, 
as shall elicit the feelings of devotion, and give nourishment to the 
meditative spirit. 

The translators may be permitted to say, that they have had in 
mind, in their selections, not so much the learned scholar, as the 
great mass of the intelligent and educated community. They could 
have easily selected articles of a higher character, in respect to 
learning and profoundness of investigation, than some of those which 
have been chosen. They wished, however, to benefit a larger class 
than would be attracted by mere erudition or by abstruse researches. 
This general design has led the translators to annex some illustra- 
tive notes, which would not be needed by the advanced scholar. 1 
For the same reason, references to books, quotations from foreign 
languages, and parenthetical clauses have been frequently transfer- 
red from the text to the bottom of the page. These quotations have 
generally, also, been translated. 

A word in respect to the execution of the work. " There are two 
methods in which a translator may proceed. One is, to give simply 
the sense of the original in the translator's own language and style ; 
in this way the reader obtains the thoughts of the original author, but 
gains no acquaintance with his style and manner as a writer. The 
other mode is to translate the language of the original, as well as ex- 
press the thoughts ; so that the writer himself, in his peculiar modes 
of thought and expression, may be placed before the reader. In 
lighter works, the former method may be sufficient ; in more impor- 
tant ones the latter is alone admissible. Indeed, so much often de- 
pends on the shaping of the thought and the coloring of the expres- 
sion, that justice cannot be done to a writer in any other way." 2 

1 For instance, the testimonies concerning our Lord by Josephus, Tacitus, 
etc. on pp. 459 — 461. 

2 Bib. Repos. IV. 241. There is still another mode in which translations 
have been attempted, i.e. the merely verbal. It is a translation of words, 
and of nothing else. Of this class, Dobson's Translation of Schleiermacher's 



INTRODUCTION. 



2b 



" There are two maxims of translation," says a great German 
critic ; " the one requires that the author belonging to a foreign na- 
tion be brought to us in such a manner that we may regard him as 
our own ; the other, on the contrary, demands of us that we trans- 
port ourselves over to him, and adopt his situation, his mode of 
speaking, his peculiarities. The advantages of both are sufficiently 
known to all instructed persons, from masterly examples." 

The translators of the present volume have attempted a medium 
between these two modes. The nature of the undertaking, in their 
opinion, demanded such a course. They have endeavored, on the 
one hand, to make a readable book. It is intended mainly for those 
who are not familiar with the modes of thought and of expression 
which prevail in Germany, and who would throw down in disgust 
a translation that was an exact copy of the original. Accord- 
ingly, long and involved sentences have been frequently broken 
up. In some cases the translators have been compelled to express 
by circumlocution, that which in the original is indicated by a single 
compound word. There are instances, where a literal translation 
would convey no sense whatever to an English reader. In such in- 
stances a slight paraphrase has been unavoidable. Those only can 
understand the embarrassments of the case who have themselves 
attempted a similar labor. On the other hand, the translators have 
not felt themselves authorized to adopt a perfectly free English 
version. They have wished to preserve, as far as was consistent with 
perspicuity, the manner of the original. Such writers as Rlickert 
and Ullmann have peculiarities which ought not to be wholly merg- 
ed or disguised. The refined reasoning which is found in some 
parts of their writings requires that their mode of expression should 
be preserved. A perfectly Anglo-Saxon sentence would obliterate a 
delicate shade of thought. It is better sometimes to offend a criti- 
cal English ear than to sacrifice the sense of an author. There are 
instances, in the present volume, of long and somewhat intricate sen- 
Introductions to the Dialogues of Plato is a specimen. Not a few of the sen- 
tences are absolutely unintelligible. The original not being at hand, we 
have been compelled to copy a few sentences from Mr. Dobson's work. 
They may be found on pp. 377, 378. 37.9 of the present volume. We have 
ventured to alter the form of the sentences somewhat. We fear, however, 
that the reader will still find difficulty in understanding them. It ought to 
be said in justification of Mr. Dobson, that his author is extremely compli- 
cated in his modes of thought and style. 

4 



26 



INTRODUCTION. 



tences, which were thought to be necessary in order to preserve the 
full meaning of the original. The German particles, like those of 
the Greek, .not unfrequently connect the clauses of a compound 
proposition in such a manner as to render a division into indepen- 
dent sentences impracticable. The editors of this volume can only 
say, that they have endeavored to make it acceptable to a class of 
readers, whose wants have not hitherto been consulted in translations 
from the German. 1 

The translators embrace this opportunity to repeat a remark which 
is made several times in the sequel, that they are not to be consider- 
ed as responsible for particular opinions of the authors whom they 
have translated, nor for the mode in which a thought may be cloth- 
ed. They believe that the general impression of the book will be 
salutary, and that all the articles, taken as a whole, will have a fa- 
vorable intellectual and moral influence. Still not a few things 
might be specified which indicate lax or erroneous habits of thinking 
on the part of the authors. Such they would entirely disclaim. 
RUckert, for instance, as is remarked on another page, treats the in- 
spired writers with a freedom which is wholly unjustifiable. His 
Commentary too often betrays a want of reverence for those whom 
the Holy Spirit infallibly secured from error. We have occasion- 
ally inserted notes, where an objectionable sentiment or mode of ex- 
pression occurs. It must not be inferred, however, that we approve 
in every case where we are silent. All which is necessary is that the 
reader should be aware of the characteristics of his author, so that 
he may make all suitable allowances and exceptions. Riickert is 
apparently a conscientious believer in the evangelical system, and 
has, as we should infer from his writings, suffered not a little on ac- 
count of the honest and bold avowal of his religious convictions. 
We cannot but admire the simplicity and straight-forwardness of his 
course. His guiding principle of exposition is : " Employ all the 
proper means in your power to ascertain the true sense of the wri- 
ter ; give him nothing of thine ; take from him nothing that is his. 
Never inquire what he ought to say ; never be afraid of what he 
does say.'" 2 We may also add in this connection that we do not 



1 The part which the translators have respectively performed in the pre- 
sent volume is indicated by the initials of their names in the table of contents. 

2 See p. 203 seq. 



INTRODUCTION. 



21 



vouch for the truth of any of the hypotheses of Lange in the article 
on the Resurrection of the Body. 1 

We may likewise remark that we do not consider ourselves re- 
sponsible for the offences against good taste which may be found in 
this volume. It should be recollected that the Germans do not pay 
that regard to the canons of rhetoric which we consider to be indis- 
pensable. They have no separate department for it in their schools 
and universities. Their language also is of such a nature as scarcely 
to allow an undeviating system of rules. Every writer suits his own 
judgment or convenience in this respect. The language is so duc- 
tile, so susceptible of being compounded, as to render a fixed stand- 
ard of it hardly practicable. This accounts, in part, both for the 
want of good taste in German treatises, and for the difficulties of 
rendering them into good English. At the same time, this circum- 
stance imparts a freshness and vigor to the German style. It effec- 
tually breaks up a dull uniformity. An author is a representative of 
himself, not of an undeviating method, or of a national taste. In 
German writers there is idiosyncrasy, there are marked individual 
peculiarities. The elasticity and freedom of thought manifest on 
literary and philosophical subjects seem to be in proportion to the 
constraint which exists in political matters. 

In conclusion, the translators would express their grateful acknowl- 
edgements to Professor Stuart for his valuable advice and assis- 
tance in repeated instances. They are under special obligations to 
Professor Sears of Newton, who has permitted them to have free 
access to his excellent library, and who has generously aided them by 
his extensive information and by his familiar acquaintance with the 
German language. 



1 See the Note on pp. 303, 304. 



LIFE. CHARACTER, AND STYLE OF PAUL. 

BY 

DR. A. THOLUCK, 



REMARKS ON THE 



LIFE, CHARACTER, AND STYLE OF THE 
APOSTLE PAUL. 

DESIGNED AS AN 

INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF THE PAULINE EPISTLES. 1 



CHAPTER I. 

EARL5T LIFE OF THE APOSTLE. 

Importance of this investigation. — Time of Paul's earliest residence at Je- 
rusalem.— Object of it. — His education in Greek Literature. — Quotations 
from the Greek Poets — His Greek chirography. 

That part of the life of Paul, which is delineated in the book of 
Acts, and which relates to his agency, during the later periods of 
his life, in preaching the Gospel, has been fully exhibited in modern 
works as in those of Hemsenand Neander. 2 Neander in particular 
has examined the subject, with constant reference to the results, 
which flow from it, for the interpretation of the sacred writings. 
The events which occurred in the life of Paul before his conversion, 
and the circumstances of his early training have not been investi- 
gated with equal accuracy. Such an investigation, however, is 
needed by the interpreter of Paul's Epistles, because, by means of 
it, the whole image of the man is made to stand out so much the 

1 See Note A, at the close of this Treatise. 

2 [Life of Paul, by Hemsen, and History of the Establishment, and Progress 
of the Christian Church, by Neander. Hemsen 's account of Paul's early 
life is inserted at the end of this Treatise. — Tk.] 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OP PAUL. 



more visibly before the eye, and very many of his peculiar charac- 
teristics are so much the more easily explained. 

In reference to the education of the apostle, the first question of 
importance is, at what period of his life did he go to reside at 
Jerusalem. Eichhorn and Hemsen suppose, that he did not go to 
reside there until the thirtieth year of his age. As at the time of 
the martyrdom of Stephen, he was still called " a young man," 1 and 
as this designation supposes that he might then have been in his 
thirtieth year, but could not have exceeded it ; 2 so it must be main- 
tained, according to these writers, that he went to Jerusalem but a 
short time before this martyrdom, and also that very little could be 
said concerning any influence which he had then received from the 
school at Jerusalem, and from Gamaliel. But how can we adopt 
this opinion, when the apostle, in opposition to it, utters these words, 
" Born indeed in Tarsus, a city in Cilicia, yet brought up, dva- 
ts&ga^svog, in this city at the feet of Gamaliel." 3 It follows by 
necessity from this passage, that the apostle went to the capital city 
in the period of his boyhood. How early in his boyhood, cannot be 
determined. Certainly, however, too early a date must not be 
assigned, as Jerusalem furnished no special opportunity for the 
education of children. Neither in their capital city, nor generally 
among the Jews, do schools for boys and children appear to have 
been in existence at that time. They were first established shortly 
before the destruction of Jerusalem by Jeschu Ben Gamla. The 
training of lads was, until this period, a private business, and com- 
mitted to parents and friends. We may therefore fix the date of 
Paul's first journey to Jerusalem, at that period of his youth, when 
the Rabbinical system of education began. In all probability Paul 
was sent to the capital for this particular object, to be educated by 
a Rabbi. The assertion of Strabo, that the inhabitants of Tarsus 
were, as a general thing, led by their love of learning to foreign 
cities for the completing of their education, has no proper reference 
to Paul and to his countrymen generally, but only to the Greeks. 

1 Acts 7: 58. 

2 Zell, in his Observations on Aristotle's Ethics, Vol. II. p. 14, having 
occasion to explain the wide extent of the phrase vloq -rtaig, makes the fol- 
lowing good remark, " The ancients extended the period of youth too far ; 
we transgress the laws of nature, in making this period too short." 

3 See Paul's speech recorded in Acts 22: 3. 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



38 



The study of the Mishna is said to have been commenced at the 
tenth year of the child ; at his thirteenth year he became a 
subject of the law, or in their phraseology, a son of the law. Ac- 
cordingly we may determine, that Paul went to reside in Jerusalem, 
at some period between the tenth and thirteenth year of his life. 
And as, on this computation, he remained somewhere about twenty 
years under the guidance of the teachers in the capital, and es- 
pecially of Gamaliel, the influence of this education upon his 
character must have been important. 

Before Paul went to Jerusalem, while in his earliest boyhood, 
we cannot suppose that he received any education, save that derived 
from the study of the Old Testament. This study is said in a pas- 
sage of the Talmud 1 to have commenced as early as the fifth year 
of the child. The expression, also " From a child thou hast known 
the Holy Scriptures," 2 shows that pious parents among the Jews 
instructed the minds of their children, at a very early age, in the 
sacred writings. The strictest class prescribed, that the child, as 
soon as it could speak, should learn the " Hear, oh Israel," etc. 3 
The apostle did not probably receive, at this earliest period of his 
youth, an education in Grecian literature. Even if it be granted, 
that his Hellenistic parents were, in this respect, less strict than 
others, still such an education did not by any means belong to so 
early a period of life. 

The question is here to be answered, how those three citations, 
which we find in Paul, from the Greek poets, are to be regarded. 4 
It is now supposed, generally, that they were learned from social in- 
tercourse, and not from his personal reading. In regard to the quo- 
tation from Menander and Epimenides, this is altogether probable ; 

1 In Pirke Aroth. Ch. 5. § 21, Jehuda Ben Thema prescribes, u At five 
years of age let children begin the Scripture; at ten, the Mishna; at 
thirteen be subjects of the law." If this appointment seems to assign too 
early a period of life for such a study, it must be remembered that the 
Orientals come to maturity earlier than we do, and that the thirteenth year 
among them corresponds at least with the fifteenth among us. On this 
account, the same passage in the Talmud, which has been alluded to above, 
designates the eighteenth year as the one for marriage. 

2 2 Tim. 3: 15. 

3 See the Treatise of Dassow, entitled, The Hebrew Infant liberally edu- 
cated. Wittemb. 1714. 

4 See Note B, at the close of this Treatise. 

5 



3 4 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 

but not so in regard to that from Aratus. That passage is quoted 
precisely according to the text;* and from its own nature it appears 
much less probable, than in the case of the other two, that it was in- 
traduced as a proverb into ordinary intercourse. Add to this the 
fact, that Aratus was a Cilician ; so that, while Paul was residing in 
his native province, the works of the poet might very easily have 
fallen into his hands. We may therefore, perhaps with good reason, 
suppose that the apostle, when at a later period of his life he again 
took up his abode in Cilicia, became acquainted with this passage 
by his own perusal of Aratus. Why should we hesitate to believe, 
that this man, made free as he was by the Spirit of Christ from the 
prejudices of the Jews, having an eye so freely open to everything 
that concerned humanity, and especially to everything that stood 
related to his office ; that this man, during his residence of almost 
thirty years among the Hellenists, should now and then have opened 
and read one of their books? This supposition will appear still 
more probable, if we consider, what we shall prove hereafter, that 
even Paul's Jewish teacher was not averse to Grecian culture. 2 

The idea, that the apostle had such an intimate acquaintance with 
the literature of Greece, would have indeed the less probability, if it 
were correct, as many assert, that he never was really master of 
the Greek chirography. This assertion is founded on Gal. 6: 11.3 

We would not, it is true, directly assert with Neander, 4 that the 
interpretation which Winer, Riickert, Usteri give of that passage, 
introduces into it an idea which is unworthy of the apostle, but the 
interpretation appears to us unintelligible. The large size and mis- 
shapen form, which Paul gave to the Greek letters, is mentioned on 
the supposition of those interpreters, for the purpose of showing that 
the chirography occasioned him trouble ; that, notwithstanding the 
trouble, he had written ; and this fact would be good evidence of his 
love to the church. But if the apostle designed barely to express 
this thought, ' you see my love to you, that, notwithstanding I am 

1 The passage from Aratus, as is well known, correspond? with that of 
Paul even to the ydg ; thus, tov yd Q y.al ytvoc io[dv> while for example the 
parallel passage in Clean thes runs thus, ix gov ydg ytvog hfiiv. 

2 See note C. at the close of this Treatise. 

3 " Ye see how large a letter 1 have written unto you. with ni.ne own 
hand.' —Engl. Tr. 

4 Age of the Apostles. Part 1. p. 2d5. 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



35 



able to write only in an unformed hand, I have yet written to you,' 
then he expressed himself very obscurely and ineptly, when he said, 
" you see with what long letters I have written to you with my own 
hand." We wonder how Usteri could have called this interpretation 
the most natural. 

When we compare together the words of the apostle in Gal. 6: 1, 
" you see nrjXly.oig vjuv yQu^aaiv I have written to you with mine 
own hand," and the words in 2 Thess. 3: 17, " the salutation of Paul 
with mine own hand, which is the token in every epistle; so I 
write," should not the first thought that rises in our minds be, that 
Paul had the same reason for mentioning, in the former passage, 
the style of his chirography, that he had for mentioning the same 
in the latter ? If we may take n^U^og in the sense of noiog, the 
passage is easily explained, and the one is in all respects parallel 
with the other. That this interpretation is absolutely inadmissible, 
cannot be easily maintained. According to the Greek gramma- 
rians, 1 ntjXixov stands also for nolov. So likewise in all languages, 
the significations of the interrogative pronouns run into one another. 
Even the Latin style of the second (or silver) age admitted the 
word quanti instead of quot. However we need not by any means 
suppose, that nijHxov expressed, in this passage, a quality that was 
altogether indeterminate. If the great size of his alphabetic charac- 
ters were a distinguishing mark of the hand-writing of Paul, then 
the expression may involve a reference to this mark. ' You see 
with what characters, that is, with what large letters, I have written 
to you with mine own hand ; from this circumstance you may know 
that this letter is genuine.' 2 

1 See Etymologicum Magnum. 

2 See note U, at the close of this Treatise. 



36 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



CHAPTER II. 

EARLY LIFE OF THE APOSTLE. 

Influence of the instruction which Paul received in the Jewish schools. — 
His familiarity with the Jewish Scriptures. — Mode in which he was taught 
to study them. — Effect of this mode. -Resemblance between Paul and 
Hamann. — Socratic exercises in the Jewish schools; their influence. — 
Character of the Jewish teachers, particularly of Gamaliel. 

Let us now inquire into the influence of the instruction, which the 
apostle received in the capital city. 

What was taught in the kind of schools in which he received his 
education . ?1 The instruction of the doctors of the law, and Gama- 
liel was one of these, 2 consisted exclusively in the interpreting of 
the Scriptures. The object of this interpretation was, partly, to de- 
velop from the inspired word the prescriptions of ecclesiastical law ; 
and partly, to connect with biblical interpretation various kinds of 
instruction in ethical science. The former of these systems of in- 
struction was called the Halache ; the latter was called the Agadda. 
As even at the present day in the academies called Medressehs, the 
young men among the Mohammedans are instructed in the Koran, 
that they may be qualified both for teachers of religion, and for law- 
yers ; so likewise the young men among the Jews were instructed 
in the rules for the allegorical interpretation of the Scriptures, 
adopted by the Rabbins. 3 We must not, however, conceive of this 
biblical interpretation, as the individual work of the Rabbi who was 
instructing at any particular period. It consisted rather, for the 
most part, in the traditions of past history, respecting the opinions 
and instructions of celebrated Rabbins upon the inspired word. 

How much the education of the apostle availed for giving him a 
comprehensive knowledge of the Bible, we perceive in his remarka- 
bly copious and ready use of all parts of the sacred writings, and in 
the additional fact that he ordinarily quotes from memory. Koppe, 
who regards the Epistle to the Hebrews as the production of Paul, 
has collected eighty-eight quotations from the Old Testament, of 

1 See note E, at the close of this Treatise. 2 Acts 5: 34. 

3 [Botte Hainedrasch der Rabbinen. For an explanation of the Midrasch, 
or Midras, see Lightfoot's Works, Vol. XII. p. 96.— Tr.] 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



37 



which it is thought probable that at least forty-nine were cited from 
memory. Koppe is also inclined to the opinion, and so likewise are 
more recent interpreters, as Bleek, 1 and more especially Schulz, 2 
that every one of Paul's citations, without an exception, is made from 
memory. Bleek has also shown more clearly than any other, that 
often the apostle's memory referred not to the text of the Septuagirit, 
but to that of the original Hebrew. This opinion receives probabili- 
ty from the fact that we find it confirmed in the case of John, Mat- 
thew, and other writers of the New Testament. 3 That Paul was 
well acquainted with the Jewish traditions is evident from many pas- 
sages in his writings, as for example 2 Tim. 3: 8. 

The instructions, however, which were derived from the passages 
of Scripture produced for examination in the Jewish schools, were 
derived in such a way, as to increase profoundness of thought in 
minds which were capable of it ; but more especially to increase 
mental acumen. Very easily, also, there would be called forth a 
trifling and pragmatical inquisitiveness, that would press single letters 
in all ways. Resemblances in words, the order in which passages 
of the Bible should follow each other, the nature of particular letters, 
alphabetical alterations, the Greek punctuation of the Targum, the 
sound and signification of similar words from the Aramaean and 
Arabic, must have served as the points to which the instructions 
from the Bible were attached. " But this freedom of investigation 
would neither falsify the Scripture, nor take away its appropriate 
meaning ; because these exercises were adopted for the sake of free 
discussion, not of a blind law. The more extensive the field, that 
each man had for mental exercise in discussing the sacred books at 
the Agadda, so much the less authority could be yielded to the word 
of a single individual. The Agadda, therefore, had no binding au- 
thority at all, either for interpretation, or for practice." 4 

Most commonly, the meaning of the sacred Scriptures was inves- 
tigated in four different ways. The first related to the simple his- 
torical meaning of words ; the second to the higher sense, which 
was intended by the writers themselves, as in parables, prophetic vi- 
sions, etc. ; the third to the higher sense, which the writers them- 

1 See Bleek's Introduction to the Epistle to the Hebrews, p. 343. 

2 See the Halle Literary Journal. 1829. No. 104. 

3 See the discussion of this subject in Eichhorn's Bibliothek, Vol. II. 

4 Zung on the Religious Discourses of the Jews. Berlin, 1832, p. 327. 



38 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



selves did not intend, but which seems to have been intimated by the 
Spirit of God ; and the fourth, to the felicitous combination of some 
one truth with a passage of Scripture, so as to manifest the intimate 
union and the relation of dependence, subsisting between the former 
and the latter. 1 In the treatment of the sacred w T ritings, it was es- 
teemed the most important excellence to make use of the greatest 
possible subtlety, and thereby to give them the greatest possi- 
ble copiousness of meaning. The later Rabbins boasted that they 
were pipi72 , that is, they exhibited subtlety in the interpretation of 
the Scriptures. 2 So likewise Josephus 3 asserts, that only one thing 
was prized by the Jews as it should be, and that is, the man who is 
able to interpret rightly the dvvapig of the Scriptures. " They ac- 
cord wisdom to him only who clearly understands the law, and is 
able to interpret the power of the sacred writings.'" This whole 
method of interpretation is among us decidedly and rightly condem- 
ned, on account of its extravagances. The more disproportionately 
the whole spiritual life of the Jews was confined to one code of but 
limited extent, and to its traditional interpretation, and the more a 
pressing of the letter was resorted to for filling up what was wanting 
in the spirit, so much the more did their interpretation of the Bible 
become a caricature. 

There are two things, however, which we must not forget. One 
has been noticed above, that these subtle interpretations never in any 
way made pretensions to restore the real meaning of the author, but 
claimed to be allowed merely as ingenious fancies. To such fancies 
we may properly apply the remark of Cicero, " it is the part of an 
ingenious man to be able so to turn the force of a word, as to give it 
a different meaning from what others assign to it." The other 
thought is, that though monsirous and ridiculous specimens of trans- 
lating and interpreting language are found in the works of most Rab- 
foins, there are yet various exceptions. By some this method of in- 
terpreting is employed in a manner no less profound and indicative 

1 The first of these modes was expressed by tawa . the second by "r,& , 
the third by »vi , the fourth by t»n . The whole four are ordinarily ex- 
pressed by the abbreviation bTna , paradise. 

2 What Rabbi Joshua Levita, in his hsTb^Vh cVlJ? ISO , says concerning 
the manner, in which the Jewish literati labored in the interpretation of 
Scripture, is very characteristic of the mental habits of the older Rabbins. 

3 See his Antiquities, 1. xx. c. xi. 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 39 

Of genius, than is done by Hamann, 1 who, in the same way as the 
steel upon flintstone, strikes directly upon every passage of Scrip- 
ture, so as to bring from it sparks of fire. Attend for example to the 
following remark from him, which while it throws out highly significant 
allusions on all sides, expresses, at the same time, in a manner indica- 
tive of profound investigation, a thought to which we also would sub- 
scribe. 2 "Because Moses," he says, " places the life in the blood, 
all genuine Rabbins are struck with horror at the spirit and life in 
the prophets ; and are therefore led to sacrifice the strict meaning 
of words, as the only darling son was sacrificed iv naqa§oX% Heb. 
11: 19, and they convert into blood the streams of eastern wisdom." 3 

Shall we now say, that the influence of this mode of education on 
the mind of the apostle is manifest ? Certainly every reader of the 
Pauline Epistles can adduce many passages in which he thinks him- 
self able to perceive such an influence. Moreover, if we will once 
attend to the fact, that the characteristics just described, predominated 
in the writings and schools of those Jewish literati, then the influence 
of the apostle's early education will appear to be the key to the mode 
in which he treats the Old Testament. It will also be the key to the 
subtlety which he exhibits in many other respects. 

We have besides no inclination to oppose the idea of such an in- 
fluence. If in one man, James for instance, the operation of the 
more ascetic features of Pharisaism is conspicuous, why should not 
the operation of that biblical learning, which the Pharisees possessed, 
be conspicuous in Paul ? 4 The apostles, so far as the form is con- 

1 See Note F, at the close of the Treatise. 

2 [The analysis of this singularly figurative passage seems to be the follow- 
ing. < Because Moses places the life of an animal in the blood, which may 
be shed, all genuine Rabbins are struck with horror at the spiritual life which 
is found in the prophetical writings, and therefore wish to destroy it. As 
Isaac was sacrificed figuratively, (sv naQapoly), so these Rabbins sacrifice 
the strict meaning of words by resorting to allegory ; and as the life of these 
passages is thus taken away, the wise instructions of the Orientals appear, 
under the Rabbinical commentary, to be but puerile trifling. The streams 
of wisdom are made dark with blood; as so much blood has been shed. i. e. 
life of style destroyed by false interpretation. There seems to be a play 
upon the word, blood, throughout the passage.— Tr.] 

3 See Note G, at the close of the Treatise. 

4 Schneckenburger, in the treatise entitled, " Were the Pharisees Reli- 
gious Philosophers, or Ascetics," has made the assertion that, as Pharisees, 



40 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



cerned in which they stated heavenly truth, stand in intimate histori- 
cal connection with their times and their people. Yet we cannot, 
like several modern theologians, rest contented with merely this re- 
mark. From what we already know, we find ourselves compelled, 
by the relation in which the apostles stood to the christian system of 
faith, a relation in which the Lord himself had placed them, as the 
preachers of his word, as those who were commissioned to succeed 
him, and to carry on his own work ; we find ourselves compelled to 
deny that there was any such influence of temporary and national 
forms, as to modify the substance of their doctrine. Indeed the de- 
cisions on this subject, may be established not barely a priori, but in 
view of that which lies actually before us in the apostolical writings. 
With our eye fixed, then, on these writings, we maintain, that the 
subtle methods of interpretation which we find in the Jewish schools, 
and which the apostle had there appropriated to himself, were em- 
ployed by him in such a way, that the true idea can in no passage 
be mistaken. This is the fact, although, according to the historical 
connection in which the passages occur in the Old Testament, only 
a single point is given, that can furnish support for the inference 
which the apostle has derived from them. But should it not be the 
direct object of the pure interpretation of the Old Testament, to dis- 
play the full picture that, in its first rudiments, was faintly repre- 
sented in the preparative economy ? The manner which Paul adopt- 
ed, may indeed be exhibited, most happily, in cases where he has 
nothing to do with the interpretation of the written code, but with 
the record which is inscribed upon the heart of every man. When 
Paul infers from the inscription on the altar, " to the unknown God," 1 
that the heathen acknowledged their ignorance of the true God, it 
cannot be proved that such an acknowledgement lies in the express 
terms of that inscription. If, however, the heathen, besides the 
names of thousands of divinities, had also an idea of divinely opera- 
ting powers, for which they had no name ; and if to these unknown 
powers they erected altars, do they not thereby, in the reason of the 

they were mere ascetics. But this assertion is not entire]} 7 correct; for the 
above mentioned acute discrimination in interpreting the law was found in 
their schools. It is only correct, so far as the philosophy of religion, if we 
choose to retain this phrase, was not absolutely requisite in order to become 
a Pharisee. 

1 Acts 17: 23. 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



41 



thing, make a confession that their knowledge of God is defective ? 
And has not the apostle, with the noblest and the most profound wis- 
dom, made use of this very point, for the purpose of attaching to it 
such evidence, as would show to the heathen, what is the view and 
the longing of their inward souls ? Now the education, which the 
apostle received at the Pharisaical school of Jerusalem, must have 
aided him in this kind of acute and profound interpretation, after he 
had been once enlightened by the Spirit. Hamann also interpreted 
Rabbinically, if you please so to speak, and ■ he not only interpreted 
the Bible in this way, but also the works of genius of all men and all 
times. But who has not pursued, with astonishment and with true 
instruction, those hints, among which every block of marble be- 
comes a statue of Memnon ? Wherever in fact the luminary of 
Jesus rises, there many phenomena of nature and of the history of 
man, which otherwise had remained forever dumb, begin to be heard. 
In this also the remark holds true, (thai is made in Note G), one 
must know how to interrogate, (or he cannot receive an answer). 

We are not obliged, however, to look around us for other men, 
possessing merely human greatness, by whose authority we may 
defend the method adopted by Paul. Does not Christ follow essen- 
tially the same usage, as for instance in Luke 20: 37, Mark 9: 13 ? 
In reference to these passages, indeed, we are to hold fast the theo- 
logical distinction between him and his apostles, that he had an in- 
sight which they had not, into the historical relations of the inspired 
passages, which were quoted. The proof of this statement, to 
which many are disinclined to give their assent, does not belong to 
this place. 

The Jewish system of instruction gave keenness to the pupil's 
mind in another way. The instruction was not given in the form of 
oral lectures but catechetically, and so that not merely the teacher 
proposed questions to the scholars, but the scholars to the teachers, 
and to the remaining fellow pupils. We have an instance of this in 
the scene of the child Jesus in the temple. 1 And this mode of 

1 Frequently in the Talmud is it said of the pupils, " they proposed to him 
the question," or i; he proposed to him the question." The answers are de- 
signated by the word "zrrra " they replied." Even yet the Jews call such 
Socratic exercises, Kaschen, from frWj? difficult. To such questions, if the 
solution^cannot be found, the abbreviation is applied, which is the same 
as to say. ;; The Tishbite (Elias) will solve the difficulties and questions." 

6 



42 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



teaching was not confined merely to the rules for allegorical inter- 
pretation laid down in the Midras, but even the discourses in the syn- 
agogue might be interrupted by questions, or when the discourses 
were concluded, the hearer might propose some difficult inquiries, 
as is done even at the present day in the Jewish synagogue. A 
complete system of Rabbinical dialectics was formed in this way ; 
and we need but a moderate acquaintance with the Talmudic wri- 
tings, to be convinced of the great error into which Eichhorn fell, 
when he supposed that the dialectics of the apostle must have pro- 
ceeded from the schools of heathen philosophers. So far from this, 
the apostle's logic bears, throughout, the impress of Judaism. This 
is indicated by many things, particularly by his abrupt mode of ex- 
pressing himself. 1 In general, also, the antithetic and piquant style 
of instruction that he adopted, may be ascribed to the influence of 
his Jewish culture. 

This Rabbinical education however, as has been already express- 
ed, had not the same character in all schools. It depended essentially 
upon the peculiar mental habit of the instructor. Even in the first 
centuries after Christ, as well as in later periods, we find three 
classes of Jewish teachers. The first class had an inclination to the 
spiritless and literal ; the second class to a freer and more soul-mov- 
ing style, like that of the Old Testament, a style in which the inte- 
rest in the moral was predominant ; and the third adopted the style 
of mystical theosophy. 2 We always conceive of a Jewish scribe, 
as one who adheres to the dead letter, and who is also, probably, a 
hypocrite. The opposite might be learned, with sufficient clearness, 
from Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea. That the Pharisees 
are not all to be regarded as hypocrites, is evident from that well 
known passage in the Talmud, in Tractate Sota, which introduces se- 
ven classes of Pharisees. Five of these are hypocritical ; while of 
the sixth it is said, they are Pharisees from love to the recompense 
of God ; 3 and of the seventh, they are Pharisees from the fear of God. 4 

1 " His method of discussion," remarks Michaelis, very correctly, in his 
Introduction, Part 1, p. 1(35, " has very often that Jewish brevity, which 
leaves the reader many things to supply of himself, and which we see in the 
Talmud." We are initiated into the principles of this logic, and especially 
its terms, by Bashuysen, in his Clavis Talmudica Maxima, Panoviae 1714. 
With this also may be connected Buxtorf's Abbreviaturae. 

2 See Note H, at the close. 3 nifiittt • 4 HS'-Pto . 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



43 



To this is added, in the same place, " Be not afraid of the Pharisees, 
nor of those who are not Pharisees, but of those who are disguised 
so as to be like the Pharisees." 

The narratives of the Jews inform us of several distinguished Is- 
raelites, who lived about the time of Christ, and possessed true vir- 
tue and piety. Of the Cabbalistic school were Honias Ben Hacana 
and Hanan Ben Dosa ; of the school of the Pharisees were Jona- 
than Ben Saccai, Simeon Ben Hillel, Gamaliel the Elder, who was 
teacher of the apostle, and his son Rabbi Simeon. 1 We must sup- 
pose, indeed, that this very Gamaliel had distinguished himself by 
pure virtue and piety, as he stood so high among the people, al- 
though he did not adopt the principles of narrow-hearted Pharisa- 
ism. In the Acts of the Apostles it is said, 2 that he was " had in 
reputation among all the people.'" According to the accounts in the 
Talmud, which agree with this, he was called " the glory of the law," 
and they have the saying," since Rabbi Gamaliel died, the glory of the 
law has ceased." 3 If we may credit the account in Tractate Gittin, 
Fol. 36: 2, this estimable man had gained even the esteem of Titus. 
There are various features of his conduct, that show how free he 
was from the ordinary narrow-heartedness of the Pharisees. He 
had on his seal a small image, which would have been rejected with- 
out doubt by the Pharisees generally. The Talmud mentions con- 
cerning him, that he took an especial pleasure in the beauties of na- 
ture, a trait which is likewise contrary to the bigoted spirit of Pha- 
risaism. He studied Greek authors, and his freedom of spirit went 
so far, that he did not hesitate while at Ptolemais, to bathe in an apart- 
ment where stood a statue to Venus. Being asked by a heathen, how 
he could reconcile this with his law, he gave the liberal and sensible 
answer : " The bath was here before the statue ; the bath was not 
made for the service of the goddess, but the statue was made for the 
bath." The style in which we hear him speak before the Sanhe- 
drim concerning the course to be taken with the germinating Chris- 
tian religion, agrees remarkably with these features of his character. 
His expression, in this case, is indeed one which could not be ex- 
pected from the mouth of an ordinary Pharisee. 

Now, such learned men among the Jews, as possess this enlarged 



1 See Note I, at the close. 
3 See Note K, at the close , 



2 Acts 5; 34. 



44 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



mental character are usually the authors of beautiful moral senten- 
ces or treatises. The style too, in which they interpret the Old 
Testament, is very diverse from the insipid style of the mere literal 
interpreters. Certainly then we may suppose, that such instruction 
exerted a wholesome influence upon the susceptible heart of young 
Paul. Religion was exhibited to him, not merely as a matter of 
dead speculation, but as a concern of the life. According to that 
interpretation of 2 Tim. 1: 3 which we believe to be the correct one, 
Paul testifies that his ancestors practised the devout worship of God, 
and that they transmitted their religious influence to him. That 
he had preserved this pious sentiment in its purity, that he had 
served God according to the best of his knowledge through his whole 
life, that he had surpassed his contemporaries in zeal for religion, is 
evident from Acts 26: 4, 5. 22: 3.23: 1. Gal. 1: 14. More than all 
other passages, Rom. vii. shows him to have been a Jew, who not 
merely bore piety upon the lips, but earnestly proposed to himself 
the laborious acquisition of a pure and unstained manner of life. 



CHAPTER III. 

CHARACTER OF THE APOSTLE. 

Doctrine of Temperaments.— Physical Temperament of Paul ; of ecclesias- 
tical reformers generally. — Influence of the apostle's temperament upon 

his mental and religious character. His strictness; persecuting spirit. 

Comparison between him and Luther. — Penetration, comprehensive views, 
logical reasoning, ardor, vigor, urbanity, affection, tenderness of Paul. 

A correct view of the peculiarities belonging to the constitution 
and temperament of the apostle, is desirable for all those who under- 
take the interpretation of his writings. There are many, who are 
displeased with the employment of the usual names of the tempera- 
ments on this subject, as offensive ideas are included under these 
designations, in their popular and unscientific use. This use fixes 
itself on barely a single meaning, which is made disagreeably 
prominent. It is even held, in opposition to remarks upon the 
temperament of the apostles, that an accurate division of the tem- 
peraments has never been made. This, however, cannot induce us 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



45 



to abstain from the current terminology on this subject. We are of 
the opinion, that the so-called four temperaments designate the four 
fundamental peculiarities in the nature of man, as composed of soui 
and body. We think the idea which Heinroth 1 has given of them 
in his Anthropology, to be a most excellent one. The representa- 
tion of Heinroth, which exhibits in so able a manner, the connection 
between the temperaments and the various national characters, 
religious dispositions, and studies in the arts, convinces the mind at 
once, that the old fourfold division of these temperaments has not 
been made arbitrarily. We presuppose in our present remarks an 
acquaintance with the section, that is now referred to, in Heinroth's 
Anthropology. 2 

" We see in Paul," says Hug, " a temperament entirely choleric. " 
In this decision we acquiesce only half-way. We think that the 
peculiarities of the melancholic temperament are found in the 
apostle in an equal degree with those of the choleric. The melan- 
cholic temperament is everywhere characterized by this, that in- 
stead of dissipating the mind through the world that is without, it 
brings the mind back to the inner world, to the depths of its own bo- 
som. On this account, there is connected with it, if not a gloomy yet 
a prevailing serious view of things. Not dissipated by the variety of 
objects in the world, the mind directs itself to the essential interests 
of human life, and therefore a habit of speculation, ordinarily in the 
form of theosophy, and also a religious feeling, are in general found 
to be intimately connected with this temperament. The choleric 
disposition directs the mind especially to the world without ; not as 
the sanguine for the purpose of receiving, but for the purpose of 
communicating; not of enjoying the world and mankind, but of 
operating upon them and of governing them. The melancholic 
temperament, operating without a mixture of the others, has pro- 
duced those men, who, in their eminent degree of love to God, have 
occupied the solitary cell, and there consumed themselves with 
sorrow and fervid passion in the capacity of religious mystics. The 
choleric temperament has produced those heroes in the history of 

1 See Note L, at the close of this Treatise. 

2 As early a writer as Albert Durer, described the apostles according to 
their temperaments. Paul is described as melancholic, John as sanguine, 
etc. A treatise on the temperaments of the writers of the New Testament 
by Gregory is found in the Thesaurus novus, Vol. II. Amsterdam. 



46 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



the world, who, on the broad theatre of the same, have ruled and 
transformed nations and ages. From the union of the one with the 
other have proceeded religious reformers. The religious reformer 
must have looked deeply into his own heart. He must understand 
what is an inward life. He must also in an equal degree desire to 
procure currency among his brethren, for that which he had ex- 
perienced to be truth within his own soul. 

The characters of those men who have been reformers in the 
church, bear a strong resemblance to each other. In every one of 
them there was the united operation of both these temperaments. 
Let Paul, Augustine, and Luther be compared together. 1 We here 
include, of course, under the term reformers, not barely such men 
as, while they were alive, have made their influence visible in great 
circles, but also the men whose spiritual preeminence has continued 
even for centuries after they were removed from the theatre of 
action. 

The decided religious tendency of the apostle, conjoined with that 
energy of execution, which is peculiar to the choleric temperament, 
we first discern in the fact, that he attached himself to that religious 
party among his people, which was considered the most decided, 
and was the most rigorous. He himself appealed to this circum- 
stance, in his defence before Agrippa. 2 He there says that he had 

1 It is worthy of remark, that while in other instances the corporeal 
form, as the shadow of the spirit, bears a resemblance to the mental charac- 
ter, those strong-minded men who have altered the world's history, have 
fully as often been diminutive as athletie in their outward structure. 
Notwithstanding all the internal resemblance between Luther and Paul, they 
must in their external appearance have been altogether dissimilar. They 
were dissimilar not barely in respect to the whole figure, which in the case 
of Paul wis diminutive, 2 Cor. 10: 10, but also in respect to their utterance, 
as we may learn from the verse just cited, and in respect to physiognomy, 
if we may trust the description which is given of Paul in the dialogue of 
Philopatris, in the time of Julian. This speaks of him as" the Galilean with 
the bald head and the aquiline nose." Even the antiquated Vassari, in his 
memoir of Brunelleschi, the man who constructed the celebrated arch in the 
cupola at Florence, an architect gigantic in his works, though not in his 
form, makes the interesting remark, 'Many are created with small stature 
and diminutive features, who have such greatness of mind, and such incon- 
ceivable, idomitable energy of heart, that they will never give themselves 
rest, unless they commence undertakings, which are difficult and almost 
impossible, and finish them, to the wonder of all who behold.' 

* Acts 26: 5. 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



47 



attached himself to the most exact sect ; and after he had chosen 
this as his party, he surpassed in zeal most of his contemporaries. 
When the religion of his fathers was brought into peril by the 
Christians, he devoted himself to the service of the high council, for 
the purpose of crushing the new sect. At first he persecuted them 
at Jerusalem, yea he compelled them to utter blasphemies against 
the crucified Messiah. As he had not done enough at the capital to 
gratify his rage, he hastened to Damascus. 1 

The contradiction which appears in this respect between the 
apostle's zeal and the tranquil character of his teacher Gamaliel, 
may surprise us. Men, however, who have a character like that of 
Paul, are also independent. If in Gamaliel, whom we may more 
properly compare with Erasmus, we could suppose that there ex- 
isted the delicate introverted mind of Staupitz (Luther's instructor,) 
then we should see in the relation of our German reformer to this 
his teacher, a representative of Paul and his teacher; The general 
current of Luther's life presents very many points of comparison 
with Paul. As long as he was in the way of the law, he exhibited 
the same earnestness of conflict, as we see described in the seventh 
of Romans ; afterwards he exhibited the same bold freedom which 
appears in Paul. 

If we wish to determine what are the principal characteristics of 
the converted apostle, as they are exhibited in his writings and 
speeches, our examination will especially exhibit the following.. 
With deep penetration, as it may be expected of one accustomed to 
an inward life, he seized hold of those religious truths, which had 
been communicated to him by the Revelation of the Lord. No one 
can fail to observe the rich speculative contents of his Epistles, and 
the great difference which appears in this respect, between him on 
the one hand, and Peter and James on the other. John indeed 
touches upon subjects like those of Paul, for John also is speculative.^ 
While, however, with John all religious knowledge goes into the 
form of a few antitheses, relating indeed to the infinite, such an- 
titheses as light and darkness, life and death, love and hatred, the 
children of God and the children of the devil, remaining in Christ 
and living without him ; the view of Paul embraces in its full con- 

1 Acts. 26: 10—12. 

2 [Speculative ; interested in meditating on things above the sphere of 
sense ; accustomed to investigate spiritual subjects. — Tr.] 



4ft 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



nection the eternal decree of God, which has been kept secret from 
the foundation of the earth ; which was signified by the prophets, 
which in Christ Jesus was manifested in the world, and which, since 
it has been exhibited to mankind, has made known even to the 
spirits in heaven, the manifold wisdom of God. 1 

That venerable German metaphysician, who in his retirement 
prepared, a number of years ago, a christian philosophy, and gave 
to this new form of his system the name of the " historical philoso- 
phy," had then in view, as we may say, for his precursor and ex- 
emplar, the apostle to the Gentiles. In Paul's model-system of 
doctrine there is laid down a philosophy of the history of the world. 
He everywhere proceeds on the ground of the eternal plan of God, 
in which Christ is the central-point, and at the same time the key to 
the mysteries of the past and the future. " Before the foundation 
of the world was laid, we were chosen in Christ." 2 Before the fall 
of Adam therefore Christ was constituted the xsXog of the history of 
man ; the prae of time expresses also a prae of relation. At the 
definite period which had been determined by God, " in the fulness 
of time," this being on whom the history of the world revolves was 
introduced among men. 3 And in some passages, Paul, looking 
forward and backward, gives the destination of both heathenism and 
Judaism in reference to this turning point of history. 4 In the eleventh 
of Romans he lifts the veil, which conceals the future progress of 
the race in this life, and lets the consideration of the whole temporal 
development of the great divisions of this race, as this development 
relates to the kingdom of God, terminate in the expression, " Of 
him and through him and to him are all things." 5 In the 15th chap- 
ter of 1 Corinthians, however, the view of Paul is raised above the 
future periods of the present life, into a futurity still more remote, 
beyond the boundaries of time ; and he concludes this view in the 
twenty eighth verse, with the sentence, " So shall God be all in all." 

As it is only this apostle who makes use of the expression, con- 
densing into three words time and eternity, " Of him, and to him, 
and through him (slg aitov, into him) are all things," 6 so it is only 

1 Rom. 6: 25, 26. Ephes. 1: 9—12. 3= 8—11. 2 Eph. 1: 4. 

3 Gal. 4: 4. 1 Tim. 2: 6. Titus 1: 3. 

4 Acts 17: 26, 27. Rom. i. Gal. 3: 24. Rom. vii. 5 Rom. 11: 36. 

6 4 ' Thou, with whom all good things end and begin," is an expression of 
Dante, addressed to Jehovah, in imitation of the above quoted passage of 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



49 



this apostle, before whose eye, as he glances at the central point of 
the world's development, there is always spread out the beginning 
and the end of this development. 

The mode of considering a subject, adopted by Paul, differs 
moreover from the mode adopted by John in the following respect. 
All antitheses, as generally all single topics, whose limits run into 
one another as John looks upon them, appear to Paul definitely 
separated from one another. As the form of his discourses, so like- 
wise his train of thought moves on diatectically. Paul therefore has 
been at all times the favorite author of the thinking, as John has 
been of the feeling Christian. 

Further, the prominent quality in the writings of Paul is ardor 
and power. As was said of Luther's style, so it may be said of 
Paul's, it is a continual battle (Schlacht). 1 In the letters which were 
written from imprisonment, when he bore the chains upon his hands, 
in what a glowing style does every word speak forth his longing, 

the apostle. Out of Paul's writings there is only one expression, which ac- 
cords with this passage. That is found in Heb. 2: 10. But this epistle has, 
in other respects, the character of a work belonging to a disciple of Paul. 
Moreover, the St ov in that passage deviates from the style of Paul. The 
remarkable tig avxov, from which originated Augustine's immortal expres- 
sion, " Thou, God, hast made us for thee, therefore our heart is not at rest, 
until it rest in thee," is also found in Acts 17: 26, 27. 

[Tholuck means, probably, that the idea which he would attach to the 
phrase ah avrdv, is also expressed in this passage from Acts ; and particu- 
larly in the words, - that they should seek the Lord," tend to him, and 
"find him," come near him, so that they may spiritually live and move and 
have their being in him. The idea of a general union with God is a favorite 
one with Tholuck —Tr.] 

1 The first judgment, that is known to us, concerning the character of 
the style of Paul, was contained in the lost work of Irenaeus, " On the 
Pauline Inversions," where with entire correctness he pronounced the 
ground of them to be, « the rapidity of his speech and the vehemence of his 
spirit;" Adv. Haer. 3. 7. The ancient heathens, in their judgment upon a 
work of art, scarcely ever took notice of the subjective sentiment and cast 
of mind, under the influence of which the work was produced. They ab- 
stained from this, in order that the work may have more the appearance of 
a gift from the divine power. But christian authors have very early pro- 
nounced their opinion on the internal peculiarities of the sacred penmen. 
In this fact then may be found an objection, unknown to many of them, 
against the mode of representing inspiration as something purely passive. 
(See Lardner's Works, II. 176,495, 573, 4. IV. 479, 480. Vll. 429—437.) 

7 



50 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



that the gospel may run and have free course ! — and yet how dif- 
ferent is his ardor of spirit from that of an enthusiast ! It is charac- 
teristic of the apostle, that amid the glowing of his inflamed soul, he 
is never deficient in the regulating power of discreet reflection. 
What regard he pays in his discourses and letters, to the variety of 
relations and circumstances ! What a contrast between his style of 
remark at Jerusalem, and at Athens ; to the Galatians, and before 
king Agrippa, and Felix the Governor ! Even gracefulness and ur- 
banity of manner are not wanting in these discourses ; as, for exam- 
ple, when he closes an address with the words, " I wish in short that 
not only thou, but all who hear me this day, were such as I am, 
these bonds excepted." 1 What heedfulness and delicacy in the 
treatment of different mental conditions are exhibited in the first and 
second epistle to the Corinthians ! The consideration of all this is 
certainly sufficient to refute those false imputations, that account for 
the conversion of Paul, the very occurrence on which the whole 
active efficiency of his life was founded, by representing it as a 
dream in his mid-day sleep, or as a fanatical vision. Truly the so- 
ber and humble demeanor of the apostle does not accord with the 
characteristics of a visionary ! 

As the third fundamental feature in the picture of PauPs charac- 
ter after he was converted, we must mention, love. The natural 
disposition of the bilious man prompts him to govern ; to govern, 
even if he must trample on one half of the race, so that the other 
may obey him. Nothing is more opposed to the bent of his mind, 
than for him tenderly to spare what belongs to others. But where, 
in all history, can be found the example of a great and powerful 
spirit, which has been more skilled than Paul in becoming all things 
to all men ? With what winning tenderness does he treat the Co- 
rinthians, to whom he had so much reason, as he himself expresses 
it, for coming with a rod ! In view of such expressions, as 2 Cor. 
2: 5, 7, 9, 10, we might almost say with Erasmus, that the apostle's 
tender love amounted to a " pious flattery" and " sacred adulation," 2 
if we did not know from other sources, how far a mind, that was 
truly softened with the love of Christ, would give up and subordinate 
its own interests. So likewise might we go through the epistle to 
Philemon, and point out, in almost every word and sentence, the 
tender refinement of that affection, which the holy man himself de- 



* Acts 26: 29. 



2 Pia vafrities, sancta adulatio. 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



51 



scribes with the words, " it is not puffed up, doth not behave itself 
unseemly, seeketh not her own." If he only is possessed of true 
greatness, who can also condescend to what is small, then there is 
no better spectacle of greatness than is to be seen in a Luther, as 
after all his thunderings against the emperor and the pope, he exhi- 
bits himself like a child in his letter to his little John. 1 And we 
firmly believe that Paul himself would be capable of the same exhi- 
bition of character. At least the impression is a similar one, which 
is made by the reading of his epistle to Philemon, after we have 
read his epistle to the Romans, or his speech at Athens, 



CHAPTER IV. 

STYLE OF THE APOSTLE. 

Paul's style of writing different from that of the other apostles ; but not so 
different as might have been expected. — Difficulties in reference to the 
style of the Epistle to the Hebrews. — Style of Paul's speeches. — His ability 
to write in classic Greek. — Copiousness of his style. — His frequent use 
of the paronomasia. — Character of this figure. — Authority for it. — Objec- 
tions against it. 

We come next to speak of the style of the apostle. It is gene- 
rally acknowledged how much more of a master he was of the 
Greek idiom, than his fellow apostles were. One thing however in 
relation to this subject is surprising, that between him who spent the 
earliest period of his life in a Greek city, who doubtless spoke Greek 
from childhood up, and his companions in office, who either never 
traveled beyond the boundaries of Palestine at all, or not until they 
went as apostles, — it is surprising, I say, that between him and 
them, the distinction does not appear much greater than it does. 
Should we not expect from Paul, that he would adopt such a style, 
in some respects, as the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews has 
done ? 2 A perfect accuracy in the use of the Greek can be ex- 

1 See note M, at the close. 

2 [Tholuck as is well known, supposes that Paul was not the author of 
the Epistle to the Hebrews. — Tr.] 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



pected, indeed, from no Israelite, however long he may have dwelt 
in the society of the Grecians. 

We may perhaps make an exception here in favor of such liber- 
ally educated Alexandrines as Aristobulus, and the translator of the 
Proverbs in the Septuagint. Even Josephus complains that " his 
early habits of speech forbade exactness in the expression of the 
Greek j" 1 and in the preparation of his Greek writings, he availed 
himself of the aid of foreigners in respect to the style. But at least, 
must not Paul have greatly excelled James, who, as it seems, having 
grown up as a genuine Pharisee, never went beyond the boundaries 
of Palestine. 

From the comparison of Paul with his fellow-apostles, two things, 
as it occurs to us, may be learned with tolerable certainty. One, 
relating especially to James, in less degree also to John and Peter, 
is this ; we must recede from the prevailing belief that the Greek 
language was not at all, or in very few instances spoken by the in- 
habitants of Palestine. If we refuse to abandon this view, which 
may elsewhere, moreover, be shown to be false, then in opposition 
to all christian antiquity, we must come at last to the conclusion, 
that no one of the Jameses known to us, was the author of what is 
called the epistle of James. This conclusion has recently been 
avowed even by so cautious a critic as Schott, and has been support- 
ed entirely by considerations drawn from style. 2 The other infer- 

1 Antiquities, B. XX. c. XI. 

2 [The question whether the Aramaean or the Greek language was exclu- 
sively spoken in Palestine in the time of Christ has been long and earnestly- 
discussed. A brief history of the discussion, and a view of its importance, 
are given by Prof. Robinson in Bib. Repos. Vol. I. pp. 309 — 317. See like- 
wise the essay of H. F. Pfannkuche, on the general prevalence of the Ara- 
maean language in Palestine, and the article of Plug on the general use of 
the Greek; the former in Bib. Repos. Vol. 1. pp. 317— 363, the latter in Vol. 
I. pp. 530 — 551, and also in Fosdick's Translation of Hug's Introduction, 
pp.326 — 340. Father Simon, says Prof. Robinson, " shows conclusively, 
that the Jews in Palestine did speak the Chaldee or Aramaean language ; 
but at the same time, although a warm advocate for the Hebrew original of 
Matthew, he admits that Greek was spoken in Palestine, and takes indeed 
the position, which probably most at the present day will be ready to adopt 
after reading Hug's essay, viz., That the two languages ivere both current at 
the same time in Palestine, during the age of Christ and the Apostles ." "Hug 
shows, irrefragably as it would seem, that the Greek had obtained such a 
footing in Palestine, as to place it at least nearly on an equality with the 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



53 



ence derived from this comparison, and relating to Paul, is this ; we 
must suppose that the imperfection of his Greek style had not its ori- 
gin in an impossibility of writing better, so much as in a want of 
care. That the apostle could use the Greek idiom with skill, when- 
ever there was need of his doing so, may be proved conclusively 
from the epistle to the Hebrews, if that be supposed to be the work 
of Paul, or from the last part of the book of Acts, if we be allowed 
to appeal to the speeches there inserted. These speeches are per- 
haps distinguished above every other portion of the New Testament 
for elegance of Greek style. We do not, however, conceal the un- 
certainty of this argument. Grant even that no other reason pre- 
vented us from considering the apostle to the heathen, as the au- 
thor of the epistle to the Hebrews, what could well be alleged as a 
reason why the apostle, who writes to the tastefully educated Corin- 
thians in the style that was easy to him, should, in an epistle to the 
Christians in Palestine, make use of an elegant idiom ? If the use 
of the Chaldee idiom was so agreeable to the inhabitants of Pales- 
tine that a tumultuous assembly, when they heard Paul speak in this 
idiom, became still, 1 why should not the apostle, who in things law- 
ful so willingly became all things to all men, have preferred the 
Chaldaic dialect, in an epistle which he wrote directly to a commu- 
nity in Palestine ? Those who defend the Pauline origin of the 
epistle to the Hebrews, have not as yet succeeded in removing this 
difficulty. This one thing indeed they are able to show, that an 
epistle in Greek might have been understood by a community in Pa- 
lestine. 2 But this fact does by no means justify an author in select- 
ing the Greek language, when he was equally skilled in the peculiar 
language of the province to which he wrote. 

The argument drawn from the speeches in the Acts of the Apos- 
tles would have greater weight than the preceding, if we were only 
certain, that the speeches which are interwoven with that work, and 
particularly the speeches of Peter and Paul, are to be looked upon 

Aramaean in respect to general prevalence." Bib. Repos. Vol. I. pp. 313. 
317.— Ta.] 

1 Acts 22: 2. 

2 [The objection against the Pauline origin of the Epistle to the Hebrews, 
on the ground of its closer conformity to the Greek idiom than the acknow- 
ledged epistles of Paul, is met, by Prof. Stuart, by denying the fact. See 
his Comm. on Hebrews, §32. p. 235—248. — Tr.] 



54 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



as the exact report of the apostle's words. Seyler indeed has 
recently, in his essay on the speeches and epistles of Peter, in the 
first number of the Studien imd Kritiken for 1832, expressed his 
conviction, that Peter's speech was reported by the author of the 
book of Acts, with a nicety, which passed over not even a particle, 
not even a di. As, however, Dr. Seyler has reserved the proof of 
this position to a future time, we cannot judge of his reasons. It 
seems to us surprising at the first view, and worthy of our attention, 
that the speeches which are found in the former part of the Acts of 
the Apostles, and indeed not merely those of Peter but those of Paul 
also, 1 bear, in a striking degree, so much more of the Hebrew color- 
ing, than those found in the latter part. We are compelled to ex- 
plain this by the fact, that the former speeches were delivered over 
to Luke in writing, as he was not present to hear them ; while the 
latter, which he heard himself, were re-written by him with freedom. 
The agreement of the diction with that of Luke is an argument for 
this supposition. If this view is correct, then the appeal to the 
speeches of Paul in the Acts of the Apostles loses its authority. 

Although therefore we abandon these direct arguments, still we 
may, as we think, admit that the apostle to the Gentiles could, when 
it was necessary for him to do so, write in the pure Greek style. 
We regard the opinion, which Michaelis has expressed in his Intro- 
duction, 2 to be in the highest degree apposite. " Paul is distinguish- 
ed," he says, " from all the other New Testament writers. Instances 
of Hebraism enough, instances of carelessness enough, are to be found 
in him, yet not the short verse-measure of the Hebrew style, but on 
the whole more of the Greek construction. Still he is careless, like 
one who understands the language, but spends no labor at all upon his 
diction ; like one who thinks barely of his subject, and is transported 
by an overflow of thoughts, and at the same time by emotion and oc- 
casionally by genius. That the best Greek expressions are equally 
familiar to him with the Hebrew is evident. They are interchanged 
as the former or the latter occur first to his mind. The Greek lan- 
guage is at his service, even in expressing the liveliest and most deli- 
cate satire ; but he does not avoid the under-current of Hebraism, 
and has no wish at all to write with purity or with beauty." 

If, on the one hand, there is in the style of Paul more of the 
Greek coloring, and if it is adopted more involuntarily, than is the 



1 See Chap. 13. 



2 Edition 4, Part I. p. 117. 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



55 



case with the other apostles, inasmuch as dialectic discussion very 
naturally made his style periodic, 1 so on the other hand, the want of 
periodic structure is not the effect of a deficiency in acquaintance 
with the language, so much as the effect of the apostle's character, 
and this has already been described. There is indeed for his mode 
of thinking, as of writing no more fitting image than the flood, where 
one wave overtops another. The frequently recurring ov povov ds 
and fiaUov di is the swelling of the wave. 2 Let one only consider 
how Paul, at the beginning of the epistle to the Romans, never 
satisfies himself, but adds accessory ideas to every principal word. 
This is visible in the most characteristic way in the first chapter of 
his epistle to the Ephesians. Where thought presses upon thought, 
one feeling upon another, there it is not easily conceivable that 
regularly constructed parentheses, 3 like those which are presented in 
the epistle to the Hebrews, and which are the result of calm reflec- 
tion, should be employed. In such cases the anacoluthon is intro- 



1 Liicke, in the second edition of his Comment, on John, Vol. 1. p. 129, 
makes very correct remarks on this subject. 1 here select the passage, be- 
cause it expresses at the same time the view above given of the relation 
between John and Paul. 

" The chief distinction," he says, '-between Paul and John lies in the 
individuality of the two writers. As Paul thinks logically, syllogistically,. 
and besides, in his Epistles, explains the subject-matter of the Gospel in a 
didactic form, so he writes in the periodic style; but with the periodic and 
dialectic mode of writing, the Greek peculiarities likewise the more decidedly 
present themselves. John is almost the opposite of this. As in his mental 
character he is inclined to the synthetic, rather than to the analytic method ; 
as he is inclined to what is called the intuition of the spirit, rather than to 
the logical discussion ; so likewise in his style of composition he is more 
simple (than Paul). He is so in his Epistles, and likewise in his Gospel. 
In the latter, moreover, the historical subject-matter makes a difference 
between him and his fellow-apostle. His thoughts are arranged, with 
greater regularity than Paul's ; one might almost say that they follow each 
other in the order of parallelism. The Hebraistic element is therefore 
visible, both in his mode of representation, and his choice of language ; and 
it is, at least inwardly, the pervading element of his style." 

2 See for example, Rom. 5: 3, 11. 8: 23, and 34. 10: 14 and 15. 

3 [On the parenthetical character of the style of Paul's epistles generally, 
and of the epistle to the Hebrews in particular, see Stuart's Comm. on 
Heb. § 22, especially p. 14.— Tr.] 



56 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



duced ; ] the oratio variata 2 also ; the siopesis 3 and the laconic. 4 
The same fervor of spirit is discernible in those words, frequently 
introduced, which are compounded with into, as vniqllav, tutor r/.ao), 
vjizoTieoLGo-EVb), vntonltovaQa ; in the oft repeated use of nag 5 and in 
other developments. We might hold it scarcely possible, for Paul 
to make use of such calm and dispassionate forms of speech, as the 
epistle to the Hebrews everywhere exhibits. 6 Even through the 
drapery of Luke, the discourses of this apostle, as recorded in the 
Acts, exhibit the vigorous formation of his style. 

That with the apostle's numerous Hebraisms, he had at command 
no small part of the treasures of the Greek language, is evident from 
his great variety of particles ; his significant variation of prepositions, 
which he knows how to employ so as to be a true means of con- 
veying thought ; his copious use of synonyms ; his great variety of 
expressions for one and the same object ; his employment of rare 
words, and partly of words coined by himself ; his rich participial 
constructions, but especially his copious fulness of paronomasia in 
all its forms ; the antanaklasis, parachesis, annominatio. 7 Without 
directing the mind expressly to this subject, one cannot imagine how 
frequently the apostle uses the paronomasia. For managing the 
figure in a free and spirited way, however, an unembarrassed use 
of the language is indispensable. Examine the euphonious parono- 
masia in 1 Tim. 3: 16, icpavsgw&r] — idiy.auo&'r] ; also in Eph. 3: 6, 
(jvyxXrjQovojAa xcu crtWco^a v.al avfi/uiro/a ; likewise in 2 Cor. 8: 22, 
iv nolldlg noXXaxig unovdcuov ; and in 9: 8, lira iv navil tiuvtots 
naaav avxaqv.uav I^ts. See also in Rom. 1: 29, and 31, the words 
nogvslrt, novriQia ; cp&ovov, cpovov, aavvhovg, ccavv&siovg, cto~Togyovg, 
aanovdovg, etc. Especially see those numerous examples, in which 
the resemblance in the sound in connection at the same time with 
resemblance or contrast in the sense, becomes in the highest degree 
significant. In the epistle to the Romans, for example, we have the 

1 See for example Rom. 2: 17. 21. 5: 12, 15, 9: 23. 

2 See instance in Rom. 12: 1 and 2. 

3 See example in Rom. 7: 25. 

4 See Rom. 11: 13. 2 Cor. 6: 13. 

5 See Col. 1: 9—11,28. 

e See Heb. 6: 1—3. 11: 32. 

7 The use of the same word in different senses ; of different words resem- 
bling each other in sound ; of pun. 



'5 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 57 

words ix rclcn&tog dg nianv in 1: 17; and in 1: 20, the words z« 
uogaia tov &sov xa&ooaTai ; and in 1:28, xa&ag ovx idoxlpatrav— 
Tiaqidoy/.sv aiTovg sig adoxtuov voir. Other instances of the same 
figure are found in Rom. 2: 1. 4: 15. 15: 16, and 19 ; and also in 
Rom. 3: 27, 7: 23, and 8: 2, where the term vofxog is used with 
varied applications. To these numerous other examples might be 
added from the remaining epistles. Such an accumulation of this 
figure needs perhaps an apology. There may be some who will 
agree in opinion with Basilius Faber, when he says, in his The- 
saurus, under the word paronomasia, that il in jocular and light 
compositions nothing can be more grateful than this figure ; but 
in serious discourse nothing is more improper, especially if it be 
frequently repeated." In order to perceive the incorrectness of this 
remark, however, one need only be reminded of some instances of 
paronomasia, that have been famed throughout the world. Such 
are that in Ovid, " orbis in urbe fuit and that in Schiller, ' ; die 
Welt-geschichte ist das Weltgericht." " Even in philosophy," says 
Herder, " happy expressions of this kind are of great force. They 
fasten in the soul, even by a word, the distinction or the resemblance 
that is remarked. Here also Luther and Hamann present numerous 
instances parallel with those of the apostle. We need nothing more 
however than to refer to that paronomasia which has affected the 
history of the whole world ; the paronomasia employed by the 
Redeemer himself, in the sixteenth of Matthew, where he calls 
Peter, the niiou, on which his church was built. 1 

It cannot by any means be inferred from the use of these puns by 
Paul, that reflection had triumphed over feeling in his mind, as Les- 

1 [For a much larger number of instances in which this figure is used by 
the writers of the New Testament, especially by Paul, by the writers of the 
Old Testament also, by classical autbors, and even by the Saviour himself, 
see Winer's Grammar of the New Testament, § 49, and Stuart's Hebrew 
Grammar, 3d Ed. § 571. and the works referred to in them. Perhaps the 
paronomasia employed by the Saviour in Matt. 8: 22 has been, in a moral 
point of view, nearly as much entitled to the epithet, welt-historische, as 
that in Matt. 16:13 to which Tholuck refers.— The very frequent use of 
the paronomasia and the like figures by the sacred penmen, is a proof that 
their writings are genuine Oriental productions ; that the Spirit, who in- 
dited for men, adapted himself not only to men in general, but in an es- 
pecial manner to the communities who were originally addressed ; and that 
the Bible was not designed to teach men rhetoric, more than to teach them 
astronomy or metaphysics. — Tr.] 
8 



58 



LIFE AND WRITINGS OF PAUL. 



sing says that the introduction of wit always indicates the want of 
excited feeling. This is the fact only when the wit seems to have 
been sought after. Such forms of the paronomasia as betray a pre- 
vious effort for them ; the anagram for instance, and the repetition 
in one sentence of the last word in the preceding, 1 are never found 
in the apostle's composition. It is well known that, for example, 
the sarcasm is introduced by men of spirit on occasions of the most 
highly excited feeling. It is thus used by Paul in Phil. 3: 2, jcoaaTopi 
— usQiTOfM] ; and in 1 Tim. 6: 5, nagadiciTQifidg — dicngiffaL And 
so, on the other hand, the tenderest emotions of love call forth from 
him a play upon words. An instance of it is the play upon the 
name of Onesimus in the eleventh verse of Philemon, tov noxi trot 
a/gijcnov, vvvl ds aol xcu ipol siixqi]<jtov.^ Another illustration of the 
same is that excellent proverb in Rom. 13: 8, " Be in debt to no 
man, except in love.'" 



SUPPLEMENT TO THE PRECEDING TREATISE, 

Respecting the early life of Paul, compiled from various works, but principally from 
Hemsen's Der Apostel Paulus. pp. 1 — 10. 

Name of the Apostle. Paul received from his parents the name 
bWvZ: Saul. Neander states as a conjecture, that this name was de- 
rived* from btf & to ask, and signified that Saul was a long-desired, 
first-born son, a child of prayers. Why and when the name Saul 
was changed into Paul is doubtful. The Jews, when among the 
Heathen, often altered their Hebrew names, and sometimes entirely 
dropped them. Thus Dosthai was changed into Dositheus, Jesus into 
Jason, Tarphon into Trypho, Silas into Sylvanus ; and Onias was 

1 ' \AvayQafifxartGfjLoi and tTtavaorQocpal. 

2 £OvrjGi[iog, being derived from bviv7]fit } would of course have about the 
same meaning with svygrjorov. Another instance of paronomasia on the 
same name, is in the twentieth verse of the same epistle ; Ned, clSslcpi, iyai 
gov 6vai'/u7]v Iv hvqioj. Some of the instances of paronomasia, collected by 
commentators from the writings of Paul, give no evidence of having been 
designed by him. Others were doubtless designed. " In the discourses of 
Jesus," says Winer, {< which were spoken in the Syro Chaldaic, there were 
probably many examples of paronomasia, which would of course be entirely 
lost in a Greek translation." — Tr.] 



SUPPLEMENT. 



59 



dropped for Menelaus, Hillel for Pollio, Joakim for Alcimus, Joannes 
for Hyrcanus : see Grot. ad. Act. xiii. 9. Whether Paul conformed 
to this custom, or whether, as other converted Jews did, he changed 
his name at the same time with his faith, cannot be determined. 
Ammon on Rom 1: 1, supposes the latter to be the fact. Jerome, 
Catal. C. 5. supposes that he changed his name as soon as he had 
been made the instrument of converting Sergius Paulus, the Procon- 
sul of Cyprus : Acts 13: 6—12. This is mere conjecture. Chry- 
sost., On the Change of Men's Names, states various reasons for 
the change of Saul into Paul. He rejects the idea that the etymol- 
ogy of the words determined the change ; that the word Saul was 
derived from aalevsiv and designated a persecutor, and the word 
Paul from navaaa&av and designated a protector, defender of the 
church. He seems to think that the Holy Spirit gave a new name 
to Paul, so that He might signify his authority over the converted 
man ; just as a master gives a new name to a slave whom he pur- 
chases. The name is a sign of ownership. He supposes that Paul 
did not change his name immediately after his conversion, because 
by so early a change, it would not be so extensively known that he 
was the same Saul who once persecuted the church. Neander says, 
that Saul was the Hebrew, and Paul the Hellenistic name ; Light- 
foot, that he was called Saul as a Jew and Paul as a Gentile, partic- 
ularly as the apostle to the Gentiles : Light. Works, VIII. pp. 462, 
463. XII. p. 456. 

Family connections of the Apostle. His parents were descendants 
of Abraham, of the tribe of Benjamin, Phil. 3: 5. Rom. 11:1. ' His 
father was a Pharisee, Acts 23: 6. 26: 5. Phil. 3: 5. He had a sister 
whose son was a Christian, and a discreet person, and very useful to 
his uncle Paul when a prisoner at Jerusalem, Acts 23: 16 — 22. This 
nephew's conduct cannot be thought of without admiration and grati- 
tude. Some others of his relatives are mentioned by him in his epistle 
to the Romans, who also were believers in Jesus, and several of them 
had been so before himself ; which may be reckoned a proof of the 
virtue and piety of this family. Their names are Andronicus and 
Junias, whom he calls ' his kinsmen.' By the words avyysvsig [iov, 
Rom. 16: 7, he must mean something more than ' his countrymen.' 
He speaks in the like manner of Herodian, v. 11, and also of Lu- 
cius, Jason and Sosipater, v. 21.' Lardner, Works, Vol. V. p. 473. 
Tholuck on Rom. 16: 7 says, " Zvyyevyg may designate these indi- 
viduals as the apostle's relatives, and may also merely denote that 
they were of Jewish extraction. The latter is the more probable. 
See vs. 11 and 21, and also Rom. 9: 3." See also Wahl's Lexicon 
on the word avyytv^g. 

Birth-place of the Apostle. Jerome says, Catal. c. 5, " Paul was 
of the tribe of Benjamin, and of the city of Gischala, in Galilee. When 
this city was taken by the Romans, he removed with his parents to 
Tarsus in Cilicia." This assertion is directly opposed to the account 
in Acts 22: 3, that he was " born in Tarsus in Cilicia." See also 



60 



SUPPLEMENT. 



Acts 9: 1 1 21: 39. Tarsus was a great and populous city, situated 
m a fruitful plain, through which flowed the river Cvdnus. It was 
the birth-place of many distinguished Greek scholars. The inhabi- 
tants applied with great assiduity to science, and were considered, in 
the time of Christ, as the most cultivated of the Greeks, as their city 
was the most richly provided with literary institutions. Winer's Heal 
It was declared a free city by Augustus, and endowed with especiai 
privileges. Dio Chrys. Tarsica post. 11. 36. Appian de Bel. Civ. L. 
V. p. 2/5 etc. Plin. Nat. Hist. V. 27. 22. Amm. Marcell. IV. 8. 

lime of the Apostle's Birth and Conversion. According to an 
ancient but unauthorized account, Paul was bom in the second year 
after Christ. This account is found in the Oratio de Petro et Paulo 
Opp. Chrysost Vol. VIII. The account however has nothing im- 
probable in itself, since Paul is described as a young man at thelime 
ot _ his first persecution against the Christians," Acts 7: 57. ' In the 
epistle to Philemon,' says Lardner, ' written about the year 62, the 
apostle calls himself, v. 9, " Paul the aged." This I think must lead 
us to suppose, that he was then sixty years old, or not much less.— 
Me seems to have arrived at years of discretion when he was con- 
verted, for he appears to have been one of the principal agents in 
the persecution of believers after the death of Stephen ; to have been 
entrusted by the Jewish rulers with authority to carry it on, Acts 26- 
10, and to have had officers under him. All this shows the regard 
that was paid to him.' Works, Vol. V. pp. 486, 7. The supposi- 
tion of Hemsen, Neander and Hug seems the most probable, that 
Paul s conversion occurred in A. D. 36. Usher and Pearson how- 
ever suppose it to have occurred in 35 ; Basnage, Michaelis, Hein- 
richs, Kohler and Schott in 37 ; Eichhorn in 37 or 38 ; De Wette 
in 35 or 38 ; and others still in 31, 33, 34, 39, 40, 41, or 42. 

Free citizenship of the Apostle. That Paul was a freeborn Ro- 
man citizen is certain. It is a conjecture of some that his ancestors 
obtained their free citizenship by their services to the empire during 
the civil wars with the Jews. But of this there is no evidence ; see 
Grotius upon Acts 22: 28. Deyling endeavors to show that Paul's 
parents probably purchased the privilege of Roman freedom. But 
nothing can be certainly known about "the mode in which they ob- 
tained it. The fact only is plain. See Acts 22: 28. 

Trade of the Apostle' " What is commanded of a father towards 
his son ? (asks a Tatmudic writer.) To circumcise him, to redeem 
him to teach him the law, to teach him a trade, etc. R. Judah saith 
he that teacheth not his son a trade, does as if he taught him to be a 
thief. Rabban Gamaliel saith, He that hath a trade in his hand, to 
what is he like ? He is like to a vineyard that is fenced. So some 
of the great wise men of Israel had been cutters of wood. Rabban 
JochananBen Zaccai,that was vice-president of the Sanhedrim, was 
a merchant four years, and then he fell to the study of the law." 
k ' Rabbi Judah, the great cabbalist, bore the name and trade of Hhajat, 
a shoemaker or tailor.'* Oghtfoot, Vol. III. pp. 227.228. VIII. p. 131.' 



SUPPLEMENT. 



61 



According to (this) old Jewish custom which was well nigh as 
binding as law, Paul learned a trade, that of a maker of tent-cloth. 
Michaelis (Intro. Vol. II. p. 1338, Edit. 4,) represents Paul as a ma- 
chine-maker. A passage in Julius Pollux led him into this singular 
mistake : see Hug's Introduction, Part II. § 86. The Fathers sup- 
posed Paul to be a worker on leather, or a tent-maker. Chrysostom 
says, " By his trade he was employed upon skins." The fact that 
war-tents were made of leather, induced the old writers to suppose 
that Paul worked on this material. The probability is, that as a 
kind of shagged, rough-haired goat was very common in Cilicia,and 
as the hair of this animal was manufactured into a thick coarse cloth, 
and as this manufacture may have been very common in Paul's na- 
tive province, he therefore selected it as his employment. The cloth 
thus manufactured was called cilicia. It was used for the covering 
of tents in war, and upon ships ; also for shepherds' tents, especially 
in Syria and on the Euphrates. It is not to be supposed however 
that Paul never made tent-cloth except from materials procured in 
his native region. On this supposition, it is difficult to understand 
how he could have worked at his trade, in all places which he visited. 
He doubtless used other materials besides the nilizia for the manu- 
facture of tent-cloth. That he sometimes worked at his trade after 
he became an apostle, is evident from Acts 18: 3, and probable from 
Acts 20: 34. 

Learning of the Apostle. Strabo, Geogr. 1. XIV., says that " the 
inhabitants of Tarsus were so zealous in the pursuits of philosophy 
and the whole circle of Greek study, that they surpassed even the 
Athenians and Alexandrians, and indeed the citizens of every other 
place which can be mentioned, in which schools and lectures of 
philosophers and rhetoricians were established." Hence some have 
supposed that the apostle must have been a very learned man. But 
such an inference from such premises is unwarranted. First, the 
Hellenistic Jews kept themselves at a great distance from the Greeks. 
It is true that Philo and Josephus made considerable advancement in 
Grecian literature, but they were exceptions from the general rule. 
In the case of Paul, too, there is a peculiar improbability of any 
very intimate connection with the Greeks, as he belonged to "a family 
of very rigid pharisaical principles. But secondly, Paul was sent 
away from the influences of Tarsus when he was between 10 and 
13 years of age, according to Tholuck, and remained at Jerusalem 
until he was 30 or 33. He made great proficiency, however, in 
Jewish literature, and was distinguished for talents and eloquence. 
He was supposed at Lystra to be the god of oratory. " I regard 
Paul," says Hug, "as a master of eloquence, and' should even 
like to compare him in this respect with celebrated men of ancient 
times ; e. g. with Isocrates whose letters to Demonicus and some of 
those to Nicocles bear considerable resemblance to Paul's in design 
and purport." " The simile 1 Cor. 12: 14 seq. resembles that of 
Menenius Agrippa, and is even more elegant and expressive." 



62 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



Dionysius Longinus thus speaks of the eloquence of Paul : " The 
following men are the boast of all eloquence, and of Grecian genius, 
viz. Demosthenes, Lysias, iEschines, Hyperides, Isaeus, Anarchus 
or Demosthenes Crithinus, Tsocrates, and Antiphon ; to whom may 
be added Paul of Tarsus, who was the first, within my knowledge, 
that did not make use of demonstration," who made use of persuasion 
and pathos rather than argument. See Hug's Introduction, Fosdick's 
Trans, pp. 508—10. 

Natural disposition of the Apostle. That he was by nature im- 
petuous and intolerant is evident from Acts 7: 58. 8: 1 — 4. 9: 1. 
11: 1, 2. 22: 4 seq. This makes his subsequent tenderness so much 
the more remarkable ; see Acts 20: 17 seq. It is to be remember- 
ed, however, that he obtained his early information about the chris- 
tian religion from the Jewish teachers ; and even if he resided at 
Jerusalem during the Saviour's public ministry, he was probably 
kept secluded, like the other Jewish pupils, from intercourse with 
those friendly to Jesus, 1 and must have formed erroneous concep- 
tions of Christianity. This, in connection with his zeal for Judaism, 
is some apology for his persecuting spirit. His whole history shows 
that he was naturally independent, decided in his convictions and 
feelings, prone to extremes, fitted to be a leader in whatever cause 
he espoused, and capable, when sanctified, of rendering eminent 
services to the cause of humanity. — Tr. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 

NOTE A ; p. 31. 

This treatise is taken from the Theologische Studien und Kritiken, Vol. 
VIII. pp. 364 — 393. It is understood to contain the substance of part of Tho- 
luck's Introduction to the new edition, which he is now preparing, of his 
Comm. on the Romans. It will be found to be a condensed summary of the 
literature on Paul's early life and character, to be eminently suggestive (if 
this word may be allowed) in its style, and to afford rich material for infer- 
ences and reflections. Its phraseology is characteristic of its author. The 
remarks at the close on paronomasia will serve to account for Tholuck's fre- 
quent use of it in his own style. In his Preface to the new edition of his 
Sermons, page 27, he says : " The style of writing which we demand is the 
figurative, the sententious, the enigmatical. This style, in a greater or less 
degree, runs through all the writings of the Old and New Testaments." In 
conformity with such principles, the division of the first sermon translated 

1 Paul says, 1 Cor. 9: 1 . 2 Cor. 5: 16, that he had seen Christ. This ex- 
pression, however, does not warrant the belief that he saw Christ before his 
crucifixion, but, according to Neander and Hemsen, may refer to the event 
mentioned in Acts 9: 3, etc. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 63 

in this volume is thus expressed in the original : " Und zwar beditrfen wir es 
erstens als einen Spiegel der Tugend, die uns fehlt; Zweitens als einen Rie- 
gel der Siinde, die uns qualt; und drittens als ein Sicgcl des Gnadenweges, 
den wir erwilhli" The translator has not endeavored to accommodate his 
version to these peculiarities of Tholuck, further than strict fidelity seemed 
to require. In some few instances he has endeavored to mitigate what he 
could not properly omit. Thus the first three lines on page 39 are expressed 
in the original in the following manner: " Hamann who in this identical 
way strikes upon every flint-stone of scripture with his spirit of fire (or fiery 
mind), so that sparks fly out." A few, and but a few similar changes occur 
in the translation of the sermons. 

NOTE B, p. 33. 

These three citations are, the first in Acts 17: 28, supposed by some to be 
from the Phaenomenaof Aratus, fifth line, by others from the Hymn to Jupiter 
by Cleanthes, fourth line ; the second in 1 Cor. 15: 33, supposed by some to 
be from Euripides, by others, as Jerome and Eusebius, to be from the Thais 
of Menander; the third in Titus 1: 12, supposed by Chrysostom and others 
to be from Epimenides, by Theodoret, and others from Callimachus. The 
passage in Titus is ascribed by Paul to one of the poets, ng^ but that in Acts 
to more than one,tiV6g: this has led some to suppose that the apostle in- 
tended to refer to both poets, and perhaps also to Pindar, who has a similar 
expression. It would certainly be natural for him to quote from Aratus, as 
this poet was a Cilician ; it would also be natural for him to quote from 
Cleanthes, because this poet had resided at Athens, and Paul was now ad- 
dressing an Athenian audience. As both the passages are near the begin- 
ning of the two poems, they would both probably be well known to his hear- 
ers.— It has been well remarked, however, by Henke, that the question 
whether Paul was or was not well versed in Greek literature, is not to be 
determined by his number of quotations from the Greek authors ; but by 
the general structure of his style, by his mode of argumentation, and by the 
whole arrangement of his thoughts. See Henke's Trans, of Paley's Hor. 
Paul., Remarks, pp. 449—457. " In his mode of presenting subjects," says 
Neander, Hist. Plant, and Prog., " the Jewish element of his education mani- 
festly shows itself predominant. His peculiar dialectics he acquired not in 
the Greek but in the Jewish school." See also Fosdick's Trans, of Hug's 
lntrod. pp. 511, 512. 

NOTE C, p. 34. 

The feelings or at least the professions of the Jews in reference to the ac- 
quisition of foreign languages seem to have been different at different peri- 
ods. Josephus says, Ant. B. XX. Ch. XI, " Those of my own nation freely 
acknowledge, that 1 far exceed them in the learning belonging to the Jews. 
I have also taken great pains to acquire the learning of the Greeks ; and 1 
understand the elements of the Greek language, although I have so long 



64 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



been accustomed to speak the Jewish, that I cannot pronounce Greek with 
sufficient exactness. For my own countrymen do not encourage those that 
learn the languages of many nations, because they look upon this sort of ac- 
complishment as common not only to freemen but also to slaves, such as 
please to acquire it. But they pronounce him to be a wise man who is fully 
acquainted with our laws, and is able to interpret their meaning," etc. On 
the other hand, some of the Talmudists abounded in professions of skill in 
foreign tongues. Rabbi Jochanan, in the Gemara Babylonia, says : " None 
are chosen into the Sanhedrim, but men of uncommon stature, of wisdom, 
of beautiful countenance ; old men skilled in magic and legerdemain, who 
are also acquainted with seventy different languages." The same is also 
frequently repeated in the Gemara. Maimonides says: "None were ad- 
mitted, either into the superior or inferior Sanhedrim (by which is meant the 
Sanhedrim consisting of seventy-one or two members, and that of twenty- 
three), but wise men distinguished for their acquaintance with legal disci- 
pline, men of various science, and by no means ignorant of the arts, of medi- 
cine, arithmetic, the motions of the heavenly bodies ; men of skill in leger- 
demain, divination also and magic, etc., so that they might be prepared for 
passing judgment on all the subjects usually brought before them." The 
phrase, seventy languages, was probably intended to designate all the lan- 
guages which could have been of use to the Council in determining causes 
which were submitted to their decision. Of what use a knowledge of fo- 
reign languages would be in determining forensic cases, may be seen by re- 
flecting on the number of men. speaking different tongues, who visited Je- 
rusalem. See Acts 2: 8 seq. See on the general subject, Selden de Sy- 
nedriis Vet. Ebr. Lib. II. Cap. 9. 



NOTE D, p. 35. 

The following is Winer's Comment on Gal. 6: 11. " You see, quantas, 
i. e. quam longas literas, (how long a letter, see Acts 28: 21 ; Xenoph. Hell. 
1. 1. 15), 1 have written to you; how copiously 1 have written. So Gro- 
tius, Callixtus, Baumgarten, Koppe, Schott, Stolz. His reason for calling 
this letter a long letter, (whereas it is considerably shorter than the epistles 
to the Romans and Corinthians), is to be explained by the circumstance 
added, that he wrote it with his own hand. Paul had not much skill and 
practice in chirography. On this account he dictated most of his epistles ; 
(merely adding his signature with a salutation or blessing ; see Rom. 16: 
22. 1 Cor. 16: 21. 2 Thess. 3: 17, 18. Col. 4: 18. See also a consideration 
of the supposed effect of writing by amanuenses on the apostle's style, in 
Henke's Transl. of Paley's Hor. Paul. pp. 419— 421.— Tr.) Chrysostom 
has well remarked, < Paul gives us to understand, in this passage, nothing 
else than that he wrote the whole epistle; and this was a special sign of its 
genuineness. In other epistles, however, he dictated, and an amanuensis 
wrote.' The sense of the passage is, therefore, 1 You will wonder at this 
long letter written by my own hand ; since I am not easily persuaded, in 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



65 



other cases, to write a single word myself. You will therefore perceive how 
great is my concern for your welfare, and how much I am willing to labor 
for your rescue from present danger.' (Flatt, on this passage, says, " The 
Galatians might therefore look upon it, as a special proof of his attachment 
to them, that he wrote with his own hand. He tells them, how highly they 
should prize this letter from him, and how much he loved them. 1 Perhaps,' 
says Morus, i Paul added these words because his epistle contained some se- 
vere remarks, which he wished them to know had not come under the im- 
proper notice of an amanuensis."— Tr.) Theodoret, Jerome, Theophylact, 
Heinsius, and others interpret differently. They suppose that Paul refer- 
red to the length and the crudeness of his alphabetic characters. Jerome 
says, < Paulus Hebraeus erat, et Graecas literas nesciebat, et quia necessitas 
expetebat, ut manu sua epistolam scriberet contra consuetudinem, curvos 
tramites liierarum vix magnis apicibus exprimebat.' Such a reference as this 
however seems to be inconsistent, for its want of dignity, xcith the severe mental 
habit of the apostle.' " 

It would seem from the above, that Tholuck's reference on p. 34 to Wi- 
ner, suggests an incorrect idea of Winer's interpretation of the passage. 
Some interpreters, who suppose that Paul alluded to his ungraceful chirog- 
raphy, connect the eleventh verse with those that succeed it, and give the 
following paraphrase of his words: "Marvel not at the unformed style of 
my hand-writing. 1 have no desire to gain applause for any human skill. 
Those who would lead you into evil may seek to obtain praise for their 
external accomplishments, but I will glory in nothing, save the calamities 
which I surfer for the cause of Christ." See Koppe on Gal. 6: 11. Grotius 
follows Jerome, in supposing that the apostle meant to speak only of the 
verses following the eleventh, as those which he wrote with his own hand ; 
and thus to imply that the greater part of the epistle had been dictated to an 
amanuensis. " The sense would therefore be, < Now, after you have read 
the principal part of my epistle, which is written in a character sufficiently 
graceful and elegant, you see that an appendix has been added with mine 
own hand, in a character much more unformed.' But the word tyqaxpa 
seems to me to indicate that which had been written, and not that which the 
apostle was intending to write." Rosenmuller on Gal. 6: 11. Henke sup- 
poses that Paul must have referred merely to this appendix, as in his own 
hand-writing ; otherwise the style of the epistle would have been different 
from that of the epistles which he dictated. Observations on Paley's Hor 
Paul, pp.420, 421. 

The common interpretation of the passage, that Paul referred merely to 
the fact of his writing the epistle himself, and not to the style of his chiro- 
graphy, rests in part on the principle, that « words which properly express 
magnitude may be also employed to express multitude ;" and therefore tt V - 
tixoig yQapfiaaiv may mean " with how many letters," instead of » with what 
large letters." (Flatt's Comm.) It is also contended, that the plural ofypdjufta 
is often used to signify an epistle, see Acts 28:21, and therefore TtrjlUoig 
ygdpftaoiv may signify directly, " what a large or long epistle." (Winer ) 

9 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



NOTE E, p. 36. 

Jewish Schools. The priests and Levites are sometimes called teachers of 
the Jewish people ; but they were not, under the Mosaic dispensation, teach- 
ers of schools. The prophets, more nearly than the priests, resembled cler- 
gymen at the present day. At stated seasons, as the exigency of the times 
required, they became teachers, instructors extraordinary. The school of 
Samuel is supposed by Eichhorn to have been merely a thing of accident or 
inclination ; by Rosenmuller, an institution for national culture, (he com- 
pares Samuel with Orpheus) ; by Nachtigall, a political institution ; by De 
Wette, a school probably for the education of prophetic poets or speakers. 
See 1 Sam. 10: 5—11. 19: 18—24. 2 Kings 4: 23. 

Synagogues were sometimes called schools by the Jews. Care was 
taken, however, to make a distinction between the synagogues and the 
schools properly so called, the bi#"H!0 or higher schools. In these the Tal- 
mud was read, while the Law merely was read in the synagogues; and the 
Talmud was supposed to be much superior to the Law. During the reign of 
Antiochus Epiphanes, there were no buildings for the synagogues in Pales- 
tine, though there were in foreign countries. 1 They were first erected in 
Palestine under the Maccabean princes. They were built in imitation of 
the temple. In the centre of the synagogue-court was a chapel, supported 
by four columns, in which, on an elevation prepared for it, was placed the 
Book of the Law, rolled up. This, on the appointed days, was publicly read. 
The uppermost seats in the synagogue, i. e. those which were nearest the 
chapel where the sacred books were kept, were esteemed peculiarly honor- 
able, Matt. 23: 6. James 2: 3. — There was a school in every town, where 
children were taught to read the law. If any town neglected to establish 
such a school, the inhabitants were excommunicated till one was provided. 
The students were termed sons or children. The teachers, at least some of 
them, had private lecture-rooms; but they also taught and disputed in syna- 
gogues, in temples, and wherever they could find an audience. The me- 
thod of instruction was the same with that which prevailed among the 
Greeks. Any disciple, who chose, might propose questions, upon which it 
was the duty of the teachers to remark and give their opinions, Luke 2: 46. 
The teachers were not invested with their functions by any formal act of the 
church or of the civil authority. They were self-constituted. They receiv- 
ed no other salary than a voluntary present from the disciples, a kind of 
honorarium, 1 Tim. 5: 17. They acquired a subsistence in the main by the 
exercise of some a'rt or handicraft. According to the Talmudists, they were 
bound to abstain from all conversation with women, and to refuse to sit at 
table with the lower class of people, Matt. 9: 11. John 4: 27. The subjects 
on which they taught were numerous, commonly intricate, and frequently 
very trifling. There are numerous examples of these subjects in the Tal- 
mud. 

The ■ Midrashoth' were a kind of divinity schools, in which the law was 
1 Joseph. Jewish War, Hi. 33. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 67 

expounded. Such were the schools of Hillel and Gamaliel; also, those 
which were subsequently established at Jabneh, Tsipporis, Tiberias, Magda- 
la, Caesarea, etc. Rabbi Jochanan, who compiled the Jerusalem Talmud, 
was president of one of these schools eighty years. 

The whole Sanhedrim, in its sessions, was the great school of the nation, 
as well as the highest judicatory. It set forth the sense of the law, es- 
pecially in practical matters, and expounded Moses with such authority, that 
its word was not to be resisted or even questioned. A school was main- 
tained wherever the Sanhedrim had held its session. 

A sort of academic degree was conferred on the pupils in the Jewish sem- 
inaries, which, after the destruction of Jerusalem, were established at Baby- 
lon and Tiberias. The candidate was examined both in respect to his moral 
and literary character. Having passed his examination satisfactorily, he as- 
cended an elevated seat, Matt. 23: 2 ; a writing tablet was then presented to 
him, to signify that he should write down his acquisitions, since they might 
escape from his memory, and unless they were written down, would be lost. 
A key was presented to signify, that he might now open the treasures of 
knowledge, Luke 11: 52. Hands were laid upon him; a custom derived 
from Num. 27: 28. A certain authority was conferred on him, probably to 
be exercised over his own disciples. Finally, he was saluted with the title 
of Rabbi, or Master. 1 

NOTE F, p. 39. 

John George Hamann was born at Kdnigsberg, A. D. 1730. He travelled 
considerably in his native country ; was private tutor in several places ; 
finally received an office in the customs at Konigsberg, and in the following 
year, 1788, died at Monster. He published several works, indicating a 
humorous and very eccentric turn of mind. There is in some respects a 
resemblance between them and the writings of Jacob Bohmen. They at- 
tracted but little attention at first ; but were afterwards noticed with ap- 
probation by Herder, Jacobi, Goethe, Jean Paul Richter, and other writers 
of the like character. They were republished at Leipsic in 1821—1825. 
Hamann called himself, and is called by others, the northern magian. See 
an extended notice of him in the Supplement to the Germ. Cons. Lex. 

NOTE G, p. 39. 

The following note is appended by Tholuck to the extract which he gives 
from Hamann. 

" The attention of recent writers has been called to the resemblance be- 
tween Paul and Hamann. There is here, indeed, in respect to richness of 
sentiment, well nigh more than a resemblance. Both authors are fruit-trees, 
whose branches, down to the smallest twig, glisten with fruits and blossoms. 
Many, however, will doubtless be of a different opinion, for since writers 



1 See Jahn's Archaeology 1st ed., 117, 436, 468 ; also Lightfoot's Works, 
III. 397. V. 42. X. 75, 174, etc. 



68 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



like these, as nature herself is said to do, answer only as much as you ask 
of them, you must therefore learn how to interrogate them. Their works 
are Gothic edifices, which to a wide extent over city and country ravish the 
eye, and, as you advance the nearer to them, every concealed angle holds 
your attention for hours, and discovers to you the painter who produces 
master-pieces, even when he daubs with the pencil. Is there not, for ex- 
ample, in every word of the passage quoted on p.39,from the northern magian, 
music and indeed a key-note to the great word? But that Hamann sought 
after this, will be asserted only by such an one, as must hunt for the spirit 
before it will run into his hands. Next to Hamann, the great poet of the 
Divine Comedy presents a parallel to the apostle. This parallel, however, 
is less exact than the former ; because with Dante reflection predominates 
more, and the abundance of allusions is not so involuntary as with the 
apostle and the magian of the north. That wonderful mixture of dry 
Aristotelian logic with the deepest mysticism, which is found in the Orien- 
tals, and in the Western mystics of the middle ages, is exhibited by such 
poets as Dante and Calderon in allegories, hints, learned reflections, which 
appear cold to us. Judging by my own feeling, this altogether peculiar 
characteristic of cool reflection is found in no passage of Scripture, not in 
the epistle to the Hebrews. Even the allegories in the New Testament 
proceed in my judgment, from intuition, (from poetical inspiration), more 
than from the calculating understanding. This, I think, can be made evi- 
dent. Inasmuch then as Dante possesses such intuition in rich measure, 
he presents a fertile subject of comparison, in this respect, with Hamann and 
Paul," etc. 

NOTE H, p. 42. 

The following definition of Theosophy is from JBretschneider's Entwicke- 
lung, pp. 23, 24. 

" Theosophy, (Geooocpog, rerum divinarum gnarus), is the vain persuasion 
that one has the power of acquiring, by peculiar means, an immediate 
knowledge of God and of the world of spirits, and of living in immediate con- 
nection with them. As a science, it is the instruction on the especial means 
for securing this result. Theosophy is distinguished from theology in the 
following particulars. First, theology makes use of no means to obtain a 
definite knowledge of the spiritual world, but such as are communicated to 
all men ; or it is content with a discursive knowledge of the spiritual world ; 
such knowledge as the reason derives from its own principles and from ex- 
perience. Theosophy, on the other hand, seeks or pretends to have an 
immediate intuitive knowledge of the invisible, and believes that it has 
mysterious means for obtaining it which are given to but few. Secondly, 
theology terminates in promoting the moral connection of man with the 
invisible world, in promoting a holy life ; but theosophy follows also after 
earthly and selfish ends, as the philosopher's stone, etc." 

A less distinctive meaning of theosophy is, an acquaintance with the 
spiritual world, particularly with God ; and such a pretension to familiarity 
with invisible objects as is associated with fanaticism. 



i 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 69 
NOTE I, p. 43. 

Gamaliel. — The Jews, in imitation of the Greeks, had their seven wise 
men, who were called Rabboni, Rabban, ^1 . Of this number were Hillel, 
Simeon and Gamaliel. According to the Jewish writers, Gamaliel was the 
son of Simeon and the grand-son of Hillel. Josephus mentions two learn- 
ed men, viz., Sameas and Pollio, who nourished thirty-four years B. C. If 
these are the same with the Shammai and Hillel of the Talmud, then, as is 
supposed by many, Shammai or Sameas is the same with the Simeon, 
who is mentioned, Luke 2: 25 — 35 ; and his son Gamaliel, so celebrated in 
the Talmud, is the same with the Gamaliel, mentioned in Acts 5: 34, 22: 3. 

Hillel was one of the most distinguished among the Jewish doctors for 
birth, family, learning, and authority. The Rabbins relate that he was de- 
scended from Abital, one of the wives of David. He is said to have lived 
in Babylon forty years ; he then studied the law forty years in Jerusalem, 
and was finally president of the Sanhedrim forty years more. He died 
when our Saviour was about twelve years old. He had eighty distinguished 
scholars. One of them was Jonathan Ben Uzziel, the Chaldee paraphrast. 
Many nice questions were discussed in his school. 

The name of his son, Simeon, is not mentioned in the Mishna, or in the 
codes of the Jewish traditions. Jt is conjectured by some that his regard for 
Christianity— (on the ground that he is the same mentioned by Luke)— made 
him indifferent toward the traditions. He is reported to have begun his 
presidentship of the Sanhedrim, when our Saviour was about thirteen years 
old. He was the first of the seven who were dignified with the title 
Rabban. 

H is son, Rabban Gamaliel, the apostle's teacher, is stated to have been the 
president of the Council when Christ was arraigned. He lived twenty-two 
years after that event, and died eighteen years before the destruction of Jeru- 
salem. Onkelos, the Targumist of the law, is said to have burned seventy 
pounds of frankincense for him at his death. Among the sayings ascribed 
to Gamaliel, is the following : " Procure thyself a tutor, and get thee out of 
doubting, and do not multiply to pay thy tithes by conjecture." 

From the narrative in Acts V., Gamaliel appears to have been a prudent 
and sagacious counsellor. He neither decides against the doctrine of the 
apostles, nor gives a verdict in its favor. He does not know exactly what 
judgment to pass upon the new phenomenon. He would, therefore, defer 
a final opinion till the nature of Christianity was more fully exhibited. 
Had he been convinced of its pernicious character, he would have advised 
its suppression. Had he decided in favor of its useful tendencies, he would 
have embraced it. It is conjectured by some that he gave his conciliatory 
advice, because he saw that the Sadducees were greatly inflamed against the 
apostles. The report that he actually became a Christian seems to have no 
foundation. There is no evidence but that he lived and died a firm Jew. 
Notwithstanding his liberality in the affair of the apostles, the Rabbins re- 
port, that he ordained and published a prayer which was termed, G^te hS^rj, 



70 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



' the prayer against heretics,' meaning by that term, Christians. The prayer 
was in fact composed by Samuel the Small, but it was approved by Gamaliel. 
He also ordered that it should be constantly used in the Jewish Synagogues. 

This distinguished teacher was sometimes termed, 1 Rabban Gamaliel the 
Old,' either because he was the first of that name, or because he lived to a 
great age. His son, Rabban Simeon, was slain at the destruction of Jerusa- 
lem. Simeon's son and successor was Rabban Gamaliel of Jabneh. With 
the grand-son of this last Gamaliel, who also bore the same name, the title 
1 Rabban,' and the Sanhedrim itself expired. 1 

NOTE K, p. 43. 

In explaining the phrase in Luke 2: 46, which represents Christ as sitting 
among the doctors, whereas the ordinary posture of a learner was standing, 
Lightfoot quotes the following passage from Megilah, fol. 21. 1. "The 
Ptabbins have a tradition, that from the days of Moses to Rabban Gamaliel, 
they were instructed in the law standing. But when Rabban Gamaliel died, the 
world languished, so that they learned the law sitting. Whence also that tra- 
dition, that since the death of Rabban Gamaliel, the glory of the law was 
eclipsed." See Lightfoot's Works, vol. VII. pp. 44 — 48. Similar expressions 
of praise are often found in the Talmudic writings. Thus : " When Rabbi 
Meir died, there were none left to instruct men in wise parables." " When 
Simeon, son of Gamaliel, died, there came locusts, and calamities were in- 
creased. When Rabbi Akiba died, the glory of the law vanished away. Up- 
on the death of Gamaliel the Aged, the honor of the law vanished, and there 
was an end to purity and sanctimony. When Rabbi Ishmael, son of Babi, 
died, the splendor of the priesthood was tarnished. When Rabbi (Judah) 
died, there was no more any modesty or fear of transgression." See Lard- 
ner's Works, Vol. VI. p. 511. 

NOTE L, p. 45. 

The following is a condensed view of the temperaments, so far as is ne- 
cessary for elucidating the remarks of Tholuck. It is taken from Heinroth's 
Anthropologic, Absch. 5. § 76, 77, 78, 80, 81, 82. — There is in the constitu- 
tion either great power of feeling and power of action, both in equal de- 
gree ; or a prominent power of feeling with but little power of action; 
or a predominant power of action with but little power of feeling; or an 
equally small degree of both. Accordingly, the temperament which con- 
tains great susceptibility with great power of action is called choleric, or 
warm-blooded; that which has a predominant sensibility with but little 
power of execution, we call sanguine or quick-blooded; that which has a 
predominance of the active power with but little sensibility, we call the me- 
lancholic or slow-blooded ; and that which has an equally small degree of 
susceptibility and of executive power, we call phlegmatic or cold-blooded. 

"^"SeTLightfoot's Works, III. 188, 189, VIII. 81, 392, IX. 345, 346, X. 34. 
Lardner's Works, Lond. Ed. 1831, I. 309, 310, VI. 511,514. Upham's 
Jahn's Archaeology, p. 116, Olshausen Comm. on Acts II. 630. 



4 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 71 

The choleric temperament is also called the nervous, as it depends upon a 
high degree of susceptibility in the cerebral and nervous system, and also a 
high degree of muscular power, derived from the connection formed by the 
spinal marrow, between the brain and the muscles. The sanguine temper- 
ament is also called the arterial; because it depends upon a predominance 
of activity in the arteries and lungs. The melancholic temperament is also- 
called the venous, because it depends upon a predominant influence of the 
veins and liver. The phlegmatic temperament is also called the lymphatic, 
because it depends upon the peculiar power of the lymphatic and glandular 
system. The choleric temperament, (which is the same with what is often 
called the bilious), inclines its possessor to outward activity, the melancholic 
to inward; the sanguine to enjoyment, the phlegmatic to rest. 

The man of choleric temperament has excitability, but is not easily 
irritated ; not moved by little things, but by great influences only ; is strong 
and constant in love, but not sensual; hates as vehemently as he loves, 
burns with indignation against his foe, and is willing to sacrifice his life for 
his friend; is fond of fame, dominion, outward magnificence, but not of mere 
show ; loves liberty, slavery being death to him ; is in the highest degree 
enthusiastic ; is grave but not demure ; serene but not mirthful ; has a taste 
for the grand in nature and art ; has a keen, penetrating mind, as well as eye ; 
his ideas are rapid, various, sound, distinct and well arranged ; he is fond of 
the great and the perfect in the arts, of the practical in the sciences; his 
will is quick, strong, persevering ; himself, his own I, is the object for 
which he acts. He is free from the vices that especially imply weakness, as. 
hypocrisy, lying, defamation ; he is magnanimous, and has the virtues of a 
hero: but is also capable of being a despot. This temperament is more 
commonly found in men than women ; in mature life than in youth. It 
was the temperament of the ancient Romans, and is now that of the modern 
Spaniards and Italians. 

The man of melancholic temperament is indifferent to the outward world, 
and carries his world deeply hidden within himself; is inclined to sorrow^ 
despondency, suspicion, ill-will, misanthropy; has an inclination to 
solitude, an aversion to noisy sports, joyous society ; no special predilection 
for freedom ; loves the elevated, the awful, the gloomy in art and nature ; 
is fond of letting his thoughts dwell in a world of spirits and phantasms ; 
loves profound thought, radical investigation, speculative rather than 
practical science ; is apt to adhere to a one-sided view of things: is indus- 
trious, persevering, tenacious; aims after inward refinement and perfection; 
is still, cautious and apprehensive ; fond of the sombre, grotesque, mon- 
strous ; insensible to his own outward wants, or those of others, but is con- 
sumed with deep inward sorrow ; inclined to self-mortification, self-torment, 
the life of an anchorite ; is withal equable in feeling and conduct. This is 
the temperament of men rather than women, and of the later rather than the 
earlier life. Among the ancients, the inhabitants of the Indies were 
melancholic; at the present day among cultivated Europeans, the Eno-fish 
are so. While the choleric writes in a clear and precise style, the melan- 



72 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



cholic prefers an obscure philosophical style. The choleric belongs to the 
Socratic school, the melancholic to the Stoical ; the former is predisposed 
in favor of the Protestant religion, the latter of the Catholic ; the former 
manifests his degeneracy by fanaticism, the latter, by mysticism. 

NOTE M, p. 51. 

The following letter, referred to also in Tholuck's Pref. to new ed. of 
Sermons, p. 45, is found in Luther's Works, Vol. V. pp. 18, 19. John 
Luther was the eldest son of the reformer, was born in 1526, and was there- 
fore four years old when this letter was written. 

" Grace and peace in Christ, my dearly beloved little son. 1 am glad to 
know that you are learning well and that you say your prayers So do, my 
little son, and persevere ; and when I come home I will bring with me a 
present from the annual fair. 1 know of a pleasant and beautiful garden 
into which many children go, where they have golden little coats, and 
gather pretty apples under the trees, and pears and cherries and plums, 
(Pflaumen) and yellow plums, (Spillen) ; where they sing, leap, and are 
merry ; where they also have beautiful little horses with golden bridles and 
silver saddles. When 1 asked the man that owned the garden, ' Whose are 
these children ?' he said, ' they are the children that love to pray and to 
learn, and are pious.' 

Then I said, ' Dear Sir, I also have a son ; he is called Johnny Luther 
(Hansichen Luther). May he not come into the garden, that he may eat 
such beautiful apples and pears, and may ride such a little horse, and play 
with these children ?' Then the man said, ' If he loves to pray and to learn 
and is pious, he shall also come into the garden ; Philip too and little James ; 
and if they all come together, then may they have likewise whistles, kettle- 
drums, lutes and harps ; they may dance also and shoot with little cross- 
bows.' 

Then he showed me a beautiful green grass-plot in the garden, prepared 
for dancing, where hang nothing but golden fifes, drums, and elegant silver 
cross-bows But it was now early, and the children had not yet eaten. 
Therefore 1 could not wait for the dancing, and I said to the man, ' Ah, 
dear Sir, 1 will instantly go away, and write about all of this to my little son 
John ; that he may pray earnestly and learn well and be pious, so that he 
also may come into this garden ;— but he has an aunt Magdalene, may he 
bring her with him ?' Then said the man,—' So shall it be : go and write to 
him with confidence.' Therefore, dear little John, learn and pray with 
delight, and tell Philip and James too that they must learn and pray ; so 
you shall come with one another into the garden.— With this I commend 
you to Almighty God, — and give my love to aunt Magdalene ; give her a 
kiss for me. Your affectionate father, 

In the year 1530. MARTIN LUTHER. 



THE 



FRIENDSHIP OF JONATHAN AND DAVID. 

Br 

PROFESSOR FREDERICK KOSTER. 



10 



THE TRAGICAL QUALITY 



IN THE HISTORY OF THE 



FRIENDSHIP OF JONATHAN AND DAVID. 1 



There are few characters in the Old Testament which are delin- 
eated in a light so advantageous and so worthy of love as that of 
Jonathan, the brave son of king Saul. An intimate friendship re- 
quires, by its very nature, that every strong and noble feeling in 
man should be mingled with it. We accordingly observe that all 
the virtues of Jonathan were concentrated and pictured in his friend- 
ship for David. Hence Jonathan and David rightfully take the first 
place in the distinguished instances of friendship handed down to us 
from antiquity. The bewitching charm which surrounds the histo- 
ry of this friendship consists, perhaps, very much in the circum- 
stance, that the dark, back ground in which it is invested, makes it 
appear but the more touching. The picture of so fine a sensibility, 
and of such a heroic and virtuous companionship, in a troubled and 
confused period, refreshes us like a star in a gloomy night ; and it is 
clearly the design of the historian, in interweaving this picture, to 
place in stronger relief the exasperated, suspicious and hateful feel- 
ings of king Saul — contrasted with the transparent and lovely char- 
acter of his son. But the story of Jonathan's friendship strongly at- 
tracts our attention and sympathy, in consequence of its tragical 
course. This point, hitherto but little considered, I may be here 
allowed to illustrate at some length. Many single portions of the 
narrative are exhibited in a better light and with greater promi- 
nence, from the circumstance that our historian, with all apparent 
simplicity, delineates human manners as few writers do. It is won- 
derful, how often, by a single word or by the position of a word, he 
indicates the finest traits in character. 



See Note at the end of this Article. 



76 



FRIENDSHIP OF JONATHAN AND DAVID. 



The history is tragical, since, either in itself or in its consequences, 
it so exhibits important events, that our sympathy is awakened, and 
our sensibility deeply excited. An action is strongly characteri- 
zed as tragical, when, though never fully accomplished, it exhibits a 
vehement struggle after something good, lofty and noble, developed 
by a complication of circumstances, involving a severe struggle be- 
tween inclination and duty, or between two conflicting inclinations. 
How much all this entered into Jonathan's history, may be seen by 
the following observations. 

1. The friendship of Jonathan is not only in its origin, generous 
in the highest degree, but it springs up suddenly, as if by a stroke 
of enchantment. When David, the shepherd's heroic son, was re- 
turning from the slaughter of the giant Goliath, bearing in his hand 
the head of his enemy, and was introduced to Saul by his general, 
Abner, then, as it appears from I Sam. IS: 1, compared with 20: 17, 
" the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and he loved 
him as his own soul, and he made a covenant with him." How 
touchingly do these words delineate the nature of true friendship, as 
well as that delicate connection between two persons, (compare 
Gen. 44: 30), whereby they melt, as it were, into one ! But such 
friendship is wont to be awakened, as certainly in the present case, 
in a manner one knows not how. Some occurrence at a particular 
juncture reveals unexpectedly that oneness of inclination and action 
which lies at the foundation of the friendship. Lavid had slain the 
champion of the Philistines, those hereditary enemies of Israel, with 
whom Jonathan also was constantly contending, and from whom he 
had, on one occasion, borne off a splendid trophy, 1 Sam.xiv. The 
courage and the modesty, the gallantry and the caution which David 
had shown in this encounter, were the very same qualities which 
pervaded Jonathan's great soul. He, consequently, did not think of 
the difference between a king's son and an unknown shepherd's boy. 
No vestige of envy lest David should divest him of his military glory 
found a place in his heart. Involuntarily and irresistibly he felt him- 
self drawn to the youthful hero. This moment determined forever 
the direction of his feelings. 

2. We may have observed, that friendship has rarely, on both 
sides, an equal degree of vehemence. In the case of one of two 
friends, there will be more of a disposition to communicate and to 
make sacrifices, regardless of self ; while the other, on the contrary, 



FRIENDSHIP OF JONATHAN AND DAVID. 77 

will be rather in the attitude of him who receives and acknowledges 
favors. Such is the fact in the present instance. David's friendship 
was as sincere, but it was less glowing than that of Jonathan. His 
spirit, born for dominion, was struggling upward, and did not per- 
mit itself to be ruled by any single passion. Large plans for the 
future, and thirst for glory and for exploits occupied his mind. He 
must have felt, indeed, highly honored by the proposition made by 
the king's son ; heartily he must have returned his affection ; still 
he had room in his soul for something else. The friendship of 
Jonathan made him courageous under the calamities of his adven- 
turous course ; but, in addition, he restlessly followed his widely ex- 
tended enterprises. Jonathan, on the other hand, felt himself to be 
thenceforth merely in David, and he lived, as it were, only for 
David. Even at the outset, he gave his friend every thing which he 
had at hand, in order to bind himself to him in the most intimate 
manner. He tendered his mantle, his coat and his girdle — also his 
sword and his bow, without once reflecting, that the son of Jesse 
could give him nothing in return. Willingly he acknowledged 
David's superiority, and when he knew that the throne, of which he 
was the heir, was destined for David, 1 Sam. 28: 30, 23, 18, even 
this could not make him faithless. He was ready to do everything 
for his friend, 20: 4— everything, and to offer up life itself. Hence, 
he subsequently gave him information not only of the plots of his 
father, but defended him also, in repeated instances, against Saul's 
aspersions and attacks. On one occasion, he actually succeeded in 
reconciling Saul to David, 1 Sam. IS: 1—7. When he had con- 
cealed his friend in such a manner that he could be an unseen 
witness of the conversation, Jonathan said to his father : " Let not 
the king sin against his servant, who hath been so useful to him !" 
Then Saul swore that he would not kill David, and David came 
again into his presence. But the fire which glimmered under the 
ashes soon broke out afresh. David now exhibited solicitude lest 
Jonathan should finally, though with the best intentions, leave him 
in the hands of Saul, 20: 1—23. Remembering his subordinate 
condition, he falls immediately into the tone of one addressing a 
superior, and says : " Show mercy unto thy servant, with whom 
thou hast entered into covenant, and slay me thyself rather than ex- 
pose me to thy father." Then Jonathan retired with his friend to a 
solitary place, in order that he might pour out his heart undisturbed. 



78 



FRIENDSHIP OF JONATHAN AND DAVID. 



Here he gave full vent to the overflowings of his enthusiastic friend- 
ship. Once and again, he swore eternal fidelity, v. 16, 17 ; J and 
took the same oath of him, v. 23. Since David had, in addition, 
made mention of his own death, Jonathan would still as it were, out- 
bid him, " as soon as thou hast become a king, thou mayest indeed 
slay me, if only thou wilt remain my friend," v. 14, 15. 2 

He was conscious, that he could not find words sufficient to pro- 
test how ready he was to sacrifice throne and life for his friend. 
He was not contented merely with words, 1 Sam. 20: 24 — 42. 
Saul, on one occasion, passed over in silence David's absence from 
the royal table on the first day of the new moon. But as his seat 
was vacant on the second day, he inquired the reason. Jonathan, 
in accordance with a previous agreement with David, answered, 
that the son of Jesse, on account of some family business, had asked 
leave of him to go to Bethlehem. But the splenetic king, noticing 
the pretence, abusively exclaimed, " Thou foolish rebel ! 3 well know 
I, that thou hast chosen the son of Jesse, to the disgrace of thyself 
and of thy mother who bore thee. For so long as he lives, thou 
wilt not attain to the throne ! Well, bring him here ! for he must 
die." Then Jonathan defended his friend, with all boldness : 
" Why should he be put to death ? And wherein has he offended ?" 
And when his father, infuriated with rage, hurled a spear at him, he 
sprung from the table, " full of indignation and grief, because his 
father had treated David shamefully." He hastened to David, to 
warn him of the impending danger, " And they kissed one another, 
and wept one with another." When the circumstance is added, 

1 The passage ©pis, etc. is elliptical and is an expression of certainty. 
" He made a covenant with David, and (said), ' Jehovah will certainly 
punish all David's enemies, (me also, should I become his enemy/') 

2 These affecting, accumulated words are variously misinterpreted by 
the translators. Jonathan plays on David's words, v. o, " Show me kindness 
and slay me." He now says in reply : " Thou wilt not need that I should 
then live— thou wilt then have no occasion to show kindness (like that of 
God) to me, in order to preserve my life (i. e. when thou art made a king, 
then thou mayest well put me to death, if policy should require it), if only 
thou wilt not withdraw thy kindness from my (guiltless) posterity." 

3 I do not believe, that the word rr.i'i is intended to attach any guilt to 
Jonathan's mother, when she is rather mentioned with honor in what fol- 
lows. But the participle feminine stands for the abstract, and -js , by a 
Hebraism, forms the concrete : " Thou son of the perverseness of rebellion." 



FRIENDSHIP OF JONATHAN AND DAVID. 



79 



that " David exceeded" in weeping, it is a stroke full of meaning. 
David now saw the sorrowful future that was before him. The 
dissension between himself and Saul was incurable. He must 
wander on in misery. Jonathan, on the contrary, in order to keep 
up the spirits of his friend, assumed a firmer tone than he had em- 
ployed, v. 41. On this account, he thus spoke briefly in parting, 
" As we have sworn that there shall be an eternal covenant between 
us and our posterity (so let it remain !) 1 Subsequently, when David 
had wandered in various places, for a long time, Jonathan sought 
him out in a wood among the Ziphites, as a proof of his unalterable 
friendship, and certainly not without personal danger. They here 
once" more joined their hands instead of an oath (tPrrbaa), and 
Jonathan added, 44 that David need not fear, for Saul could not find 
him ; he also knew that David would be kino-." 

o 

3. Jonathan, however, in consequence of his profound and glowing 
friendship, now came into circumstances of the most painful collision ; 
and it is this which gives to his history such a deep tragical charac- 
ter. In repeated instances, Saul had publicly declared his son to be 
a miserable traitor, who had entered into a conspiracy with the 
enemies of his king and his father. It is touching to see, how 
Jonathan did everything possible to remove this reproach from 
himself, without becoming false, in the least degree, to his friendship. 
In order to avoid the inquiries of his father for the absent David, he 
resigned to Abner his accustomed place at the royal table next the 
king, and took a seat at a greater distance, 20: 25. 2 Besides, when 
Saul had fully resolved upon the destruction of David, the latter was 
warned of his danger by Jonathan, and in such a way that by means 
of privately concerted signals, no one discovered it. On a certain 
occasion, he concealed David, outside of the city, 20: 40, at the 
stone Ezel, where, according to the probable conjecture of Josephus, 3 
was his field for military exercise, somewhat like a gymnasium— 
where also his solitary retirement could not be discovered. He now 
called to the boy, whose duty it was to collect the arrows which had 
been shot away, 44 Is not the arrow beyond thee ?" He thus gave 
hisjriend a hint that it was necessary for him to flee. Under 

1 These words are too full of feeling to permit the ellipsis to be supplied. 

5 This seems at least, to be the meaning of the obscure expression tpi. 

3 onov yvftvatofitvog SisriXti, it is called in Archaeol. 6, 11, 8. So also 1 
Sam. 20: 20, " Here he was accustomed to shoot at a mark (mtateV). 



80 



FRIENDSHIP OF JONATHAN AND DAVID. 



cover of a suitable excuse, he thereupon directed the lad to retire, 
while he poured out his heart to David, with still greater freedom. 
Suspicion, however, proved to be more sharp-sighted than friendship. 
Soon afterwards, Saul said to his servants assembled around him, 
22: 8, " Ye all have conspired against me, and there is none that 
showeth me, that my son had made a league with the son of Jesse ; 
therefore, now this my servant seeketh after my life." Nevertheless, 
the stain which was here publicly fastened upon him, the noble Jona- 
than at last removed in a glorious manner. His father, whom he had 
never forsaken, he faithfully followed, even in that last battle against 
the Philistines on Mount Gilboa ; and as Saul fell, Jonathan also 
found the death which he probably sought, in order that he might 
free his honor from the suspicion of high treason, 31: 2. 

4. After this catastrophe it refreshes us to hear, how 'precious to 
David ivas Jonathan's love. Carefully has the historian collected 
every circumstance whereby the new king honored the memory of 
his departed friend. David then sung the celebrated elegy, 2 Sam. i, 
with the undoubted design of rescuing Jonathan's name from all ac- 
cusation of having entered into a conspiracy against his father. Jon- 
athan is intentionally placed before Saul in this beautiful poem, but 
still he appears inseparable from his father, — united in life and in 
death. 1 

19 The gazelle (lies), O Israel, slain on thy mountains ! 
How are the mighty fallen ! 

20 Tell it not in Gath ! 

Publish it not in the streets of Ascalon ! 

Lest the daughters of the Philistines exult ! 

Lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph ! 

21 Mountains of Gilboa ! 

No dew nor rain upon you ! 

Be a field for execration ! 2 

For there was cast away the shield of the hero, 

The shield of Saul, — no (more) anointed with oil. 

1 In a poem of such deep emotion, the strophic symmetry cannot appear 
strongly marked. Still, the first three verses are a general lamentation ; 
the three following are devoted to the two heroes, but in such a manner 
that Jonathan appears preeminent ; the last three are employed upon Jona- 
than alone. 

2 [Or let it not be a field for oblations, i.e. yielding rich fruits. — Tr.] 



FRIENDSHIP OF JONATHAN AND DAVID. 



si 



22 From the blood of the slain, from the flesh of the mighty 
The bow of Jonathan turned not back, 

And the sword of Saul returned not empty. 

23 Saul and Jonathan — lovely and pleasant in their life, 
And in their death not divided ; 

Swifter than eagles ! 
Stronger than lions ! 

24 Daughters of Israel ! weep for Saul, 

Who clothed you in crimson, with beautiful decorations ; 
Who fitted upon your raiment ornaments of gold ! 

25 How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle ! 
O Jonathan, slain upon thy mountains ! 

26 Wo be to me for thee, my brother Jonathan ! 
Very dear wast thou to me ! 

Wonderful was thy love to me— more than the love of women ! 

27 How are the mighty fallen ! 

And the weapons of war perished ! 

David, thereupon, commended the inhabitants of Jabesh Gilead, 
because they had taken care of the remains of Saul and Jonathan, 
2 Sam. 2: 5 — 7. He thrice showed kindness 1 to Mephibosheth, 
Jonathan's son, and that too, "for Jonathan's sake." Mephi- 
bosheth was not, indeed, an object of fear on the part of 
David, as he had a lameness caused by a fall when he was five 
years old, his nurse fleeing with him on the news of his father's 
death, 2 Sam. 4: 4. But David sent for him from Lodebar be- 
yond Jordan, gave him a permanent seat at his own table, and 
bestowed upon him the land and the whole private estate of Saul, 
entrusting the management of the property to Ziba, who had been a 
servant of Saul and the overseer of his house. During the insurrec- 
tion of Absalom, this Ziba accused Mephibosheth of entertaining 
designs on the throne as his own right. David then granted the whole 
of Saul's estate to Ziba, 2 Sam. 16: 3, 4. The historian, however, 
gives us to understand that this was a false accusation, for Mephibo- 
sheth had never put off his mourning garments from the time of 
David's departure till his return home, 2 Sam. 19: 25 — 29. David, 
in the meantime, divided Saul's estate, half to the accuser and half 



1 Like that of God bifi'^S "JSCs 

11 v: v. 



82 



FRIENDSHIP OF JONATHAN AND DAVID. 



to the accused. This might have been owing either to the fact that 
he had still some doubt of Mephibosheth's innocence, or because he 
had pledged his word to Ziba, v. 30, 31. When, subsequently, David 
had resigned to the Gibeonites, as a bloody expiation, the remaining 
posterity of Saul, (without doubt in order to strengthen the succes- 
sion to the throne in his own family), he still spared Mephibosheth, 
" on account of the oath of Jehovah which was between him and 
Jonathan," 2 Sam. 21: 7. As a satisfactory conclusion to this entire 
and elegantly delineated picture, the history states that David honor- 
ably interred the bones of Saul and Jonathan in the family burial- 
place, in the tribe of Benjamin, 2 Sam. 21: 12. 



NOTE BY THE TRANSLATOR, p. 75. 

The article above translated is found in the Theol. Stud. u. Krit., Vol. V. 
1832, pp. 366 — 376. The writer, John Frederic Koster, theological pro- 
fessor in the university of Kiel in Denmark, was born in 1791. In an article 
on Rationalism and Supernaturalism in the German Conversations-Lexicon, 
he is classed with the moderate supernaturalists, approaching more nearly 
to such men as Lttcke and Ullmann than to Hengstenberg. Some of the 
principal publications of Prof. Koster are the following: Meletemeta Crit. 
et Exeget. in Zachariae Frophetae, Cap. IX— XIV. 18]S ; Die Strophen 
oder der Parallelismus der Verse der Hebraischen Poesie. His object in 
this piece is to show, that the verses of Hebrew poetry are regulated by the 
same law of symmetry, as the members of the verses ; and that consequently 
this poetry is, in its essence, composed of Strophes, i. e. its verses are 
arranged in symmetrical divisions. He seems, however, to give the name of 
Strophe to that which we are accustomed to call a paragraph. See Bibl. 
Repos. 1. 611. In accordance with his theory, Koster has published trans- 
lations of the books of Job and Psalms, with introductions and notes. His 
remarks display extensive knowledge and an excellent spirit. He has 
lately inserted in the Stud, u Krit., an article entitled, : Notes on the Old 
Testament out of the Book of Koeri.' 



PROPHECY AND SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 

BY 

DE. L. J. RUCKERT. 



ON THE GIFTS OF PROPHECY 



AND OF 

SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



PREFATORY NOTE. 

[The following Article may be found at the close of Dr. L. J. 
Riickert's Commentary on the First Epistle to the Corinthians, Leip- 
sic, 1836. A brief notice of the author, together with some account 
of his principles of interpretation, may be seen in a subsequent part 
of this volume. 

The subject of the gift of tongues is confessedly one of great dif- 
ficulty. As it has been remarked, we have lost the things which 
the terms were intended to denote. A great variety of particulars 
which were perfectly familiar to the primitive church are now cover- 
ed with darkness. We can by no means determine the exact limits 
of the different miraculous gifts. We have not sufficient data to re- 
concile, on every point, the notices on the gift of tongues in the Acts, 
of the Apostles, with those in the Pauline Epistles. In short, a state 
of things is alluded to, (not described), which ceased with the life of 
the apostles, or soon afterwards. All attempts perfectly to repro- 
duce or describe it must fail. The principal theories on the subject 
of the gift of tongues are the following : 

1. The Holy Spirit miraculously imparted to the apostles and to 
many of their disciples the power to use foreign languages, which 
they had never learned. The terms ' tongues,' ' other tongues,' etc. 
mean foreign languages, or languages which had not been acquired 
in the ordinary way. It is supposed to have been a permanent fa- 
culty of the individual, which he could employ according to his own 
discretion, and to have been miraculous only in the mode of itsac- 



86 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



quisition in the first instance. It is also regarded as one of the prin- 
cipal supernatural aids granted to the first preachers of Christianity, 
and which enabled them so soon to diffuse it through the world. 
The 4 interpretation,' eQprjveia, was needed for the sake of those who 
were present during the address of one endued with the gift of 
tongues, and who did not understand the language in which he spoke. 
This general theory has been almost universally received in this coun- 
try and in Great Britain. It is supported by the use of the epithets xcu- 
vcuq, ' new,' in Mark 16: 12, and heQaig, 4 other,' in Acts 2: 4 ; also by 
the entire tenor of the account in the second chapter of Acts, and 
by Paul's citation of Isa. 28: 11 in 1 Cor. 14: 21. On the other 
hand, it has been urged, that it represents the miracle as one of an 
entirely external character, and imposed upon individuals mechani- 
cally. Besides, it is not easy to unfold the idea of it, nor to point 
out its real object. If we imagine that object was to facilitate the 
efforts of the apostles and early Christians in propagating the gospel 
in distant lands, by means of the knowledge of foreign languages 
which this gift conveyed, in that case, we go beyond the record. In 
the inspired narratives the gift is mentioned as manifesting itself 
only in prayers and discourses in the church. 

2. Another theory maintains that ykwcraa is the tongue, or the 
physical organ, and that yXuiaa]] laluv means, 1 to speak only with 
the tongue,' i. e. to utter inarticulate sounds which give no meaning. 
According to this theory we must conceive of the gift as an inspired 
babbling or stammering. It is wholly incompatible, however, with 
the passage in Mark xvi, and with the history in Acts ii. What kind 
of an effect would such a senseless babbling have had upon intelli- 
gent hearers ; or how could the Holy Spirit have communicated it, 
or Paul given precepts for its regulation ? 

3. The theory adopted by Herder and De Wette, and strenuously 
defended by Bleek, is the following : ylwaaai are peculiar expres- 
sions, belonging to a language or dialect not in common use, and 
therefore, not known to all, but of which the poets, or those speaking 
under the influence of inspiration, might make use. This theory, it 
is said, is strongly supported by the usage of the word yXcaaaa in the 
Greek and Roman profane writers. Bleek has made a copious col- 
lection of illustrative passages. In those writers, the word some- 
times denotes antiquated expressions, which had dropped out of com- 
mon use, and which, when again employed, required a particular ex- 



SFEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



87 



planation. Sometimes also the word means idiotisms, or provincial 
expressions which are employed and understood only in certain dis- 
tricts. Bleek thus describes the application of the term : " When a 
believer made use of a language, as decidedly different from that of 
common life, as the highly poetic language of the lyric poets was 
from that of simple prose, and, when from his natural gifts and pre- 
vious education, no such style of speaking as that employed by him 
could have been expected ; then must this have appeared, of necessi- 
ty, as something supernatural, and as the effect of that miraculous in- 
spiration by which they saw themselves in general influenced. When, 
moreover, all their discourses were on religious subjects ; when in all, 
they proclaimed the praise of God who had proved so gracious, and 
of the Saviour through whom that grace was extended to them, as 
well as the blessedness they had found in believing on him, — how 
could any one fail to find in such a ylbxraaiq XaXslv an effect of the 
Spirit whom the Lord had promised to send to his people ?" Con- 
clusive arguments against this theory are adduced in the sequel by 
Riickert. 

Olshausen and Neander differ somewhat from Bleek. The for- 
mer, Theol. Stud. u. Krit. III. 64—66, admits that the speaking in 
glosses was a speaking in an elevated poetical strain ; but, on the 
other hand, he supposes also, that it sometimes rose to be actually a 
speaking in foreign tongues. This occurred, he imagines, when in- 
dividuals were present, who understood the respective tongues. 

" In the gift of tongues," says Neander, " the high and ecstatic 
consciousness in respect to God alone predominated, while the con- 
sciousness of the world was wholly withdrawn. In this condition, 
the medium of communication between the deeply moved inward 
man and the external world, was wholly wanting. What he spoke 
in this condition, from the strong impulse of his emotions and in- 
ward views, was not a connected discourse, nor an address adapted 
to the wants and circumstances of others." " He was wholly occu- 
pied with the relation of his own soul to God. The soul was absorb- 
ed in adoration and devotion. Hence to this condition are ascribed 
prayer, songs of praise to God, and the attestation of his mighty 
deeds. Such an one prayed in spirit ; the higher life of the soul 
and spirit predominated in him. When therefore in the midst of 
his peculiar emotions and spiritual contemplations he formed for him- 



88 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES, 



self a peculiar language, he was wanting in the power so to express 
himself as to be understood by the greater number." 

It is not necessary, however, to proceed further with our notices 
of the peculiar views of the Germans on this subject. Those who 
may wish for additional information will do well to consult J. A. Er- 
nesti,Opuscula Theol. Lips. 1773, 457—476 ; Heydenreich, Comm. 
in prior. Pauli ad Corinth. Epist. II. 249—270 ; Billroth, Comm. zum 
Corintherbriefe, 1833, 166—180 ; the Translation of the same in the 
23d No. of the Edinburgh Bib. Cabinet, 13—35 ; Neander in Bib. 
Repos. IV. 249 ; and Olshausen, Comm. iiber das N. T.fil. 582 seq. 
There is an Article on the subject in Vol. II. of the Stud. u. Krit. 
1829, pp. 3—78, by Prof. Bleek of Bonn. Some strictures are of- 
fered by Olshausen on these views of Bleek in the same volume, pp. 
538—549. To these Bleek replied in the following year, 1830, Vol. 
III. pp. 45 — 64. Some brief observations are appended by Olshau- 
sen, pp. 64 — 66, in which he seems to approach nearer to the opin- 
ion of Bleek. We now proceed to the essay of Riickert, who, it will 
be perceived, coincides substantially with the commonly received 
opinion. — Tr.] 



Introductory Remark. 

In the Commentary on the fourteenth chapter of the first Epistle 
to the Corinthians, I took pains to present as clearly as possible all 
those marks which might serve to define the nature of those spi- 
ritual gifts, 1 which are now to be more closely examined. The in- 
quiry will be pursued in the following treatise, so as to exhibit in 
connection what was before considered only in detached parts. I 
shall also compare what is found on the subject elsewhere in the 
New Testament, weigh the views of preceding writers, and from all 
these, present, as far as possible, a picture of the gifts as a whole. 
This cannot indeed be completed with the fulness which a mono- 
gram would admit. It may, however, be done in such a manner 

1 [Charismen, y agio para. We prefer the old words. ' gifts,' < spiritual 
gifts," to the terms Charisma, Charismata, which have been sometimes em- 
ployed by English writers.-— Tr.] 



PROPHECY. 



89 



that it will not be the author's fault, if the reader should quit the in- 
vestigation without having found the knowledge which was sought. 

Prophecy. 

The solution of the problem in respect to prophecy is easy. It 
can be stated in a few lines, and without reference to the labors of 
others. Even in Eph. 4: 11, the idea of a christian prophet, as 
gathered from the Acts of the Apostles and the Pauline Epistles, is 
accurately marked. It is this : a prophet was a man who, without 
any definite office, without any call made to him outwardly, spoke, 
from the impulse of the Divine Spirit dwelling within him, words 
which would serve for the information, encouragement and strength- 
ening of believers. He likewise uttered predictions of future events, 
if the Spirit suggested such to him. He differed from an apostle in 
this, that he was not sent like him to make known the message of 
salvation to unbelievers. They were alike, however, in respect to 
the nature of what they did say. Thus the apostle was also a pro- 
phet ; but the prophet as such was not an apostle. We learn from 
our epistle to recognize prophecy as a gift conferred on man by the 
Spirit, 1 Cor. 12: 10, according to his good pleasure, verse 11. Man 
himself, therefore, could neither impart nor acquire it, though it was 
possible for him to strive for the attainment of it. 1 All Christians 
did not possess it. 2 Inasmuch, however, as Paul desired that it 
might be enjoyed by all verse 5, he did not consider an universal 
participation in it impossible. The nature of the declaration to be 
made was revealed to the prophet, and this revelation certainly could 
take place in a moment. 3 Various as it may have been, still the man- 
ifestation of the hidden secrets of the human heart is given as an 
elementary part of the prophetic discourse. 4 The form in which 
the prophecy appeared was that of a language generally understood. 
Thus, doubtless, the language of the country which was in every- 
day use was employed. The effect which it produced was particu- 
larly directed to believers verse 23, and consisted in the edification 
and spiritual improvement of the church. 5 Unbelievers, however, 
might be deeply affected by it, and be brought to self-knowledge and 
to the worship of the true God. 6 It was not designed for a contin- 

1 1 Cor. 14: 1, 39. 2 1 Cor7l2^29T~ ~~ 3 7Cor. 14: 13. 

4 1 Cor. 14: 24 ; 25. s 1 Cor. 14: 3, 4. 6 1 Cor. 14- 24, 25 

12 



90 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



ued existence. On the contrary, a time was to be anticipated and 
hoped for — the time of the completion or fulfilment — when there 
should be no more prophecy. 1 All this is stated with great clear- 
ness and definiteness. It completes for us the beautiful picture of a 
preacher's office, free, christian, confined to no situation, having no 
human call or appointment. It was an office, which the primitive 
church in its simplicity could enjoy, which a world adorned by the 
name of a church, in its wisdom, cannot enjoy ; so little can we 
enjoy it that if the Spirit should once more act in the same man- 
ner as he did in the early christian times, the worldly arm of a civil 
power, which has the guardianship of the church, knows how to ex- 
tinguish the office by law and mad-houses. 



Speaking with Tongues. 

While thus the nature of christian prophecy can be stated almost 
with perfect precision, on the other hand there rests upon the phe- 
nomenon that is wont to be designated by the words, ' speaking with 
tongues/ 2 a darkness whose impenetrableness the older commentators 
perceived, and which has, by no means, been removed by the addi- 
tional, very praiseworthy labors of modern interpreters. This dark- 
ness, I imagine, can never be perfectly dispelled. Far as possible 
am I from supposing that I can accomplish it. I shall only pursue 
my duty as an interpreter, while I undertake to say the few things 
on the subject which I am able to say. I shall here make that refer- 
ence to the labors of the latest interpreters, already named in the 
Commentary, which is allowed by the narrow limits which I am com- 
pelled to put to this treatise. A fundamental exhibition of what 
has been propounded by them of itself, without any examination of 
it, would occupy more room than I have. I am, therefore, com- 
pelled to refer those readers who wish to look over the entire dis- 
cussion to the treatises of those learned men themselves, which be- 
sides are not difficult of access. This I do with the more pleasure, 
as the excellent things laid down in them all are so numerous that 
no one will regret the reading of them. The path that I here take 
seems to me to be demanded by my position as an interpreter of 
the epistle to the Corinthians. The author of a monogram might 
indeed choose his point of departure as he pleases. He might begin, 



1 ICor. 13: 8-10. 



2 yhooooug XaXslv. 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



91 



perhaps, in the most fitting manner, with the notices in the Acts of 
the Apostles. The interpreter of Paul, however, has to direct his 
eye first to that which the apostle himself says upon the topic, and 
merely to call in those notices to his aid, provided the words of the 
apostle are not sufficient of themselves to afford the necessary light. 

Preliminary Remark in respect to the Investigation. 

Two observations I must here premise. One relates particularly 
to the investigation of the thing ; the other to the advantage which 
we are authorized to expect from the words of Paul. Both are al- 
lied to each other. Even the latest authors 1 seem to me in general 
not to have sufficiently considered what, in a subject of this kind, is 
the principal difficulty, namely, that our inquiry cannot be so much 
grounded on the nature of the gift itself, as on the mode in which 
Luke and Paul have presented it to us, or the views of it which their 
representations will authorize. They are the only men whom we 
have to testify on the subject, and they can do it from their own ob- 
servation. We would not be misunderstood here, as though the sub- 
ject were presented by them otherwise than it was in reality. On 
the contrary, even if they had so desired, they could not have given 
an untrue representation, because they wrote for contemporaries and 
eye-witnesses, and even for those who shared in the gift itself. If they 
had fully delineated its nature and its external marks, then we 
should have accepted their view as perfectly authentic. This, how- 
ever, they do not do. On the contrary, Luke supplies a few scanty 
notices. Paul offers to his readers, who were familiar with the thing, 
some judgments and observations upon it. Our curiosity, simply arous- 
ed but not satisfied with the information, can but supply in the way 
of conjecture what the history has not given. This course ought to 
remain unprohibited. We should not, however, forget that we are 
endeavoring to supply an historical fact, which is either wholly 
unique in its kind, or yet for us so obscure that we do not know 
whether among the phenomena presented to our experience any 
thing similar can be found or not. It hence follows that we are to be 
on our guard, first, lest we place too much reliance on analogies 
drawn from other facts, not knowing whether, the observed analogies 

1 Baumlein only excepted, who merits the highest praise of all, especially 
for his thoroughness, method and impartiality. 



95 



SPEAKING TV1TH TONGUES. 



are essential or accidental, real or only apparent ; secondly, lest we 
should wish to press with our psychological principles — derived only 
from experience — upon an actual phenomenon where all experience 
fails us ; and thirdly, lest our metaphysical or theological views 
should decide questions where historical arguments alone can deter- 
mine. If arguments of this nature fail us, then the question must 
remain unsettled. By observing these cautions we are, to be sure, 
cut off from the most copious sources of statement and illustration ; 
we also subject ourselves to the danger of being compelled to con- 
fess our ignorance on most points. At the same time we avoid, as 
it seems to me, the far greater danger of creating a fact for our- 
selves, which is like the actual truth hardly in the remotest features. 

Preliminary Remark in respect to Paul's Language. 

The second observation is this — we may venture to hope that we 
can ascertain from the words of the apostle, not the nature of the 
gift of tongues in Corinth, but the nature of this gift as Paul himself 
understood it. He was in the possession of it ; x he imparted it to 
others. 2 Thus far, accordingly, we may expect that he will de- 
lineate it as it was ; that nothing will be said by him which was 
foreign from it. But the violent proceeding of the Corinthians in 
relation to it, he could not know from his own observation. What 
he had learned through others could not but be imperfect, because 
these may have known it only of Corinth. 3 That it was actually so, 
the handling of the subject which he has deigned to give is an 
incontrovertible evidence. He exhibits the ' speaking with tongues,' 
always, as an actual gift of the Divine Spirit— as a donative which, 
good in itself, and salutary to its possessor, could not have been 
fitted for use in the church on account of its not being understood. 
Paul recommends that it be employed but rarely in the assemblies. 
How can we therefore, how dare we admit that this was the gift of 

1 1 Cor 14: 18. 2 Acts 18: 6. 

3 Eichhorn. Einl. III. 121, 128, has also made a similar remark. He dees 
not, however, apply it correctly. He has well explained the caution which 
the apostle observed in his treatment of the subject; but the hypothesis, 
which he frames out of the words of the apostle that relate to the disorder in 
the Corinthian church, is altogether inconsiderate. Here Eichhorn has 
gone, characteristically, into as copious details as if he knew more about it 
than Paul himself 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



93 



tongues in Corinth 7 However any one may judge finally of the 
Spirit himself and of his gifts, still all may unite in this, that the gift 
in question was the result of a divine energy, and that its workings 
could be disclosed only in the individual who was himself warmed 
and enlivened by it in favor of that which was good and holy. But 
that this last effect could not be attributed to the Corinthians generally, 
our epistle must have probably convinced us. Of particular persons 
nothing is here said. The assertion respects the majority, since in 
Corinth the speaking with tongues was excessive, and was shared 
in by multitudes. The majority, however, were far from possessing 
the christian feeling which could induce us to believe that the 
Holy Spirit had made them particularly, in preference to many 
others, his abode and scene of operation. The greater part [of this 
exhibition] in Corinth was probably mere imitation and parade. 
But in what manner exactly this was shown, how far it proceeded, 
and into what caricatures it transformed the original phenomenon — 
on these points Paul himself had perhaps no knowledge ; or if he 
had, he concealed it, because he did not learn it from his own obser- 
vation. He contented himself, for the moment, in limiting its ex- 
cessive use in the church, until he could be present in person to dis- 
tinguish truth from falsehood and expose the hypocrisy. We, how- 
ever, who have nothing at command besides that which Paul com- 
municates in his epistles, must be contented, in our efforts to form 
an acquaintance with the subject in general, simply with what flows 
in a direct way from his words. We may also compare the notices in 
the Acts of the Apostles. At all events, that must be regarded as 
peculiar to the subject as developed at Corinth which cannot be 
brought into agreement with the notices of Luke. 



The Gift of Tongues an actually spoken Language. 

To the inquiry, how Paul understood the gift of tongues, we must 
answer, first, that he recognized it as an actual speech or language, 
and as entirely foreign from the notion of an inarticulate, senseless 
sound. 1 Whether any thing like this existed at Corinth, 2 we must 

1 This is the view of Eardili and Eichhorn ; also of Bertholdt. It may, 
however, be variously confuted. Yet Olshausen II. 575, 577, has assented 
to it with some limitations. 

2 This, properly speaking, is maintained only by the defenders of the view 
in question, i. e. Bardili,etc. 



94 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



leave, after what has been said, undetermined. That Paul himself 
had no such idea is obvious not only from 1 Cor. 14: 9, but also from 
the fact that it is impossible that he could have ever regarded such a 
senseless stammering and howling — if it came out fully — as any 
thing good, edifying, or desirable ; in short that he could view it as a 
gift of God, and admonish the Corinthians (which he has actually 
done), that God was to be served by them in an orderly manner,while, 
as it will appear, he has not uttered a word about any thing un- 
known or unintelligible. Some persons may refer to " the groanings 
which cannot be uttered," 1 but of this we not only know far too 
little which would enable us to build aught upon it, but in the passage 
before us there is nothing at all said of " groanings ;" 2 it is ' speak- 
ing,' 3 and a ' declaration.' 4 Therefore, there is not the remotest re- 
semblance in the expression even. That this speech or language was 
audibly uttered cannot be inferred 5 with certainty from what Paul 
has said. All these phenomena— the ' interpretation' 6 itself not ex- 
cepted—might as well have occurred when any one who was in- 
fluenced by the Spirit actually spoke. But on the ground that one 
made known the secret workings of his mind by mere pantomime, 
by an inaudible moving of the mouth outwardly, then he alone could 
understand, whom the Spirit had put into a similar state. The 
unlearned, or uninitiated, however, must have been almost compelled 
to regard it as a sign of madness, especially if it often occurred. At 
all events the words, ' let there be silence,' 7 is decidedly against it. 
If we must grant, however, that the inarticulate speaking was a dis- 
tinguishing mark of the gift of tongues as conferred at Corinth, still, 
in this case, there must have been discovered in the apostle's words 
some vestige of a deviation from the general form in which the 
gift was manifested. But no such trace can be found. The tongue, 
as Paul understands it, was accordingly not merely a discourse, 
but a discourse audibly uttered. Meanwhile, nothing further is 
said about the length or brevity, the fulness or the marked ab- 
ruptness of it. The tongue was not, however, a single one, but 
there appear to have been various species of it, distinguished from 

1 ozsvaypovg aUh'povs Rom. 8: 26. 2 aravayfiovg 

3 lah-tv 4 
3 This has been already remarked in the Commentary on 1 Cor. 14: 2. 
6 iQ^vsia. 7 olyatoi 



SFEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



95 



each other. 1 Thus Chap. xiv. often, it is true, uses the singular 
number, but never with the article. 2 Had the gift of tongues been 
a mode of speaking which, in all the various forms of it — occasioned 
by the ideas, by the individuality of the speaker or by other causes — 
yet ever retained one and the same essential character, for ex- 
ample, abruptness or high elevation, or certain favorite forms, then 
the language would indicate this. It would have been named 4 the 
tongue,' or ' speaking by a tongue,' not ' the tongues,' or the ' kind 
of tongues.' 3 Since then the last named forms actually appear, we 
must suppose that the single gift appeared in its manifestations so 
essentially diverse that it was possible to distinguish several kinds. 
The power to speak in this way was a gift of the Divine Spirit, like 
all the other qualifications of Christians which were peculiar to them 
as such. 4 Thus it was also a gift of God, 5 which the Spirit in his 
free, good pleasure had communicated, 6 and which therefore all did 
not possess. 7 Accordingly, it was not anything that was learned or 
acquired. Man, according to his own inclination, could not impart 
it. Since the Spirit communicated his gifts only to believers, 8 they 
alone, therefore, possessed this power ; and it was not communicated 
to them till they had received the Spirit. This gift, moreover, was 
not bestowed from the mere fact of their being Christians. That it 
was something miraculous however, in the doctrinal sense, does not 
of course follow, for the language of the New Testament not only 
does not, in general, recognize this distinction between the natural 
and supernatural, but there are found to be enumerated several gifts, 9 
which can in no manner be considered as imparted supernaturally. 

1 This is said in so many words 1 Cor. 12: 23, < diversities of tongues.' 

2 Verse 9 does not belong here, ' To another faith by the same Spirit,' etc. 

3 ttjv ylojoaaVj or yXojoaoloyiaVj not rag ylojoaag, or ytvsoiv ylvjoaow. 

4 1 Cor. 12: 7—12. 

6 See verse 26 in the same chapter. 

6 1 But all these worketh that one and the self-same Spirit,' etc. 

7 Comp. verse 30, 1 Do all speak with tongues,' etc., with 1 Cor. 14: 5, < I 
would that ye all spake with tongues,' etc. 

8 This may well be received as the predominant view in the New Testa- 
ment. 

9 1 Cor. 12:8—10, 28, gifts of healing, helps, governments, etc. [The 
author is probably incorrect in this remark ; it seems to be the general doc- 
trine of the New Testament that most, if not all the gifts in question were 
miraculous. — Tr.] 



96 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



Even from Ch. 14: 22 1 this cannot follow with perfect certainty, 
inasmuch as it is conceivable, that it served somewhat as a sign, 
ug (ttjuuov to another person, that is, as a mark of admonition, 
without being absolutely in consequence a supernatural event in our 
sense. At what time or manner an individual came into the pos- 
session of it, whether he continued in the enjoyment of it, or whether 
it was only for a limited time and under given circumstances — re- 
specting these and other related questions, Paul gives us no answer. 
This only we learn, 2 that it was possible not to make use of the gift ; 
that he who could speak with tongues had it in his power to do it or 
not to do it according to circumstances and opinions of propriety. 
It hence follows that Paul did not recognize him who spoke with 
tongues as one who was in an unconscious condition, not having 
command over himself — a passive instrument of a higher power that 
ruled over him ; for, from such persons he could not have expected 
the reflection and deliberation which are there mentioned. In that 
case, he would by no means have commanded the employment or 
the non-employment of the gift. The same thing may also be in- 
ferred from the fact of his saying that the one who spoke with 
tongues edifies himself, while we cannot believe, that the intelligent 
and discreet Paul expected a salutary spiritual and moral influence 
from words which the speaker poured out unconsciously, and 
which consequently could be neither understood, nor made use 
of. When therefore he says, ' he that speaketh with tongues, 
speaketh in spirit or in the spirit, his spirit speaketh, while his mind 
is unfruitful,' verse 14, — we cannot in this find any proof of an un- 
conscious state ; but we are rather to recollect, that even the prophet 
uttered words ' by the spirit,' and therefore we are certainly to look 
for an elevated condition in the one who spoke with tongues — a 
condition in which, according to the views of the apostle, that in- 
telligence and inward energy which rested in the man, appears to 
have been a predominant spiritual power that dwelt in him, but not 
of such a nature, that he knew not what he uttered, or what befel 
him. The unfruitfulness of the mind, however, he placed in this 

1 1 Wherefore tongues are for a sign, not to them that believe, but to them 
that believe not,' etc. 

2 1 Cor. 14, 27, 23. 39. " If any man speak in an unknown tongue, let it 
be by two, or at the most by three," etc.; and forbid not to speak with 
tongues." 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



97 



alone, that the man did not here labor with self-possession ; what was 
imparted to him by the Spirit, he only passively received ; he did 
not work it up, turning it to a practical account, as was the case in 
relation to prophecy. Respecting the nature of what was uttered, 
definite information indeed fails us ; thus much, however, we learn 
from Ch. 14: 5, 1 that only when it was not understood by the hearer, 
was it inferior to that which was uttered by the prophet ; thus even 
the one as well as the other could be made the means of edification. 
We see, however, from verses 14—17, that it must have been chiefly 
the form of a prayer, of a song of praise, or of thanksgiving ; so 
likewise from verses 2, 28, that the gift of tongues was directed 
mainly to spiritual intercourse with God. Thus from all these marks, 
we may perhaps rightly conclude that the gift was particularly 
employed in publishing the mighty works of God for the redemption 
of mankind ; but it differed from prophecy in this, that while the 
latter communicated definite instruction to the hearers in respect to 
salvation, verse 19, the gift of tongues, without any special reference 
to the needs of the hearer, poured itself out in loud praise of the 
works which had been accomplished. And inasmuch as such an 
out-pouring could not find a place— or at least should not— without 
an inward feeling and apprehension in the heart, of the wonderful 
grace of God, Paul might well desire that all believers should speak 
with tongues, verse 4, and that the unlimited edification of the one 
who spoke should be seen as the fruits of his words, verse 5. 

Up to this point everything appears tolerably clear and simple ; 
we recognize in the speaking with tongues the out flowings of a 
heart influenced by the Spirit of God, and so also thoroughly per- 
vaded by a feeling arising from the wonderful works of God in the 
redemption of mankind. We may very readily conceive, that such 
experience would not be wanting in the emotion which sprung up in 
consequence of the blessing just received. We may also suppose that 
these feelings were very strong. That the tranquil operation of the 
understanding was for a short time suspended and obscured, is not 
strange to us, when we consider the character of the oriental world, 
and the many phenomena existing in the church, at a later time, 
when, almost at once, Christianity brought a strong excitement 



1 Ch. 14: 5, " I would that ye all spake with tongues, but rather that ye 
prophesied," etc. 

13 



98 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



upon the feelings, so that a great excess and a spiritual extravagance 
need not create astonishment. We often observe similar things in 
history. We must believe that up to this pointy we have rightly- 
apprehended the thing, because we have advanced no conclusion, 
for which we have not found arguments either in the words them- 
selves, or in what we know of the religious views of the apostle 
from his own writings. 

Now, however, we come to the knot of the riddle. This consists 
in part in the unusual name which is given to the mode of speaking 
in question, 1 and partly in the various explanations of the apostle. 
He represents it as useless to the church because it could be under- 
stood by no one without an interpreter,— thus appearing like mad- 
ness to those unacquainted with the phenomenon. 2 We must sub- 
join that if the common mode of explanation of verse 13 3 be correct, 
then the one who spoke could not give, in every case, the interpre- 
tation of what he had said ; and if he could do it, this even was to 
be regarded as a gift of God just as much as the original endow- 
ment. The inability to understand a discourse audibly uttered may 
have had its origin, either in the contents of the discourse or in its 
form. That it does not lie in the contents is sufficiently proved, as 
I think, in my Commentary. On such a supposition, moreover, there 
would be no significance in the name. This inability is therefore to 
be sought externally, in the form. Here I recognize three possible 
reasons why it could not be understood. 

These are the unintelligible enunciation — the obscurity of the 
style — or the foreign language unknown to the hearer. This last 
might have originated in various ways. The unintelligible utterance 
would not fall in with Eichhorn's hypothesis of stammering, for in 
this case, there were actual words ; but furthermore it could never 
have been regarded as a gift. Besides, it would have been veiy 
easy for the one who spoke to have uttered his sentences clearly. 
This supposition has absolutely nothing in its favor. Before we in- 
vestigate the other two, we will turn our attention to that which the 
Acts of the Apostles presents us. 

1 ylo'oocug or yXdqay XaXtiv. 
2 1 Cor. 14: 2,6,9, 16,17, 23. 

3 1 Wherefore let him that speaketh in an unknown tongue pray that he 
may interpret. 1 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



99 



Notices in the Acts of the Apostles. 

We find in Cb. 19: 6, the mention of twelve disciples of John who 
received the Holy Spirit by the ministration of the apostle, and 
immediately spoke with tongues as well as prophesied. This pas- 
sage, however, serves us merely as a certain proof that Paul could 
impart from his own inward power the gift to others, as well as that 
he possessed it himself. 1 It also shows us that these two gifts, 
differing from each other, were received at the same time with the 
communication of the Holy Spirit, and indeed, as it appears sudden- 
ly ; it shows nothing respecting their nature. A second passage, 2 
likewise, teaches us the contemporaneousness of the reception of the 
influence of the Spirit and the entrance of the gift of tongues, and 
strengthens us in our conception of the meaning of what was uttered 
by the words (isyaXwovrav tov -dsov. In regard to what belongs to 
the form of its manifestation, the words of Peter, 3 and so likewise 
the reference of the same apostle to this event, 4 merely teach us, 
that it had presented itself to him, an eyewitness, altogether in the 
same manner as the first exhibition of this gift on the day of Pente- 
cost ; and since there is no other passage yet extant which shows 
us anything respecting it, 5 we see ourselves driven back entirely to 
Acts ii. as the main text. When, however, we consider this narra- 
tive with an entirely unprejudiced eye, we cannot resist the con- 
clusion, that Luke has narrated the circumstances in the following 
manner : The persons there assembled, on the moment, when, 
(with the rushing of the wind and the appearance of flames of fire 
on their heads), the Holy Spirit had fallen upon them, did actually 
speak in the languages of the strangers mentioned in verses 9 and 10. 
The most astonishing feature in the entire event was this, — the men 
who unexpectedly possessed and exercised this power were Galileans, 

1 1 Cor. 14: 16, : I thank my God I speak with tongues more than ye all.' 

2 Acts 10: 44-47. 3 Acts 10: 47. 4 Acts 11: 15, 17, 15: 8, 9. 

5 The power indeed which Simon Magus, Acts 8: 18, 19, desired to pur- 
chase of Peter might be only that which the gift of tongues would enable 
him to effect : we, however, learn nothing of that in which it consisted,— at 
most we ascertain the single circumstance, that it was something very 
striking which Simon believed that he could not himself effect, but by 
which, if he could procure it, he expected that he should gain much with 
the astonished multitude. 



100 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



of whom nothing like this could have been anticipated. This view 
of it was everywhere the predominant one, until a genuine spirit of 
investigation had undermined it in various ways. 1 

Various Hypotheses. 

Here is not the place to repeat the many explanations of the phe- 
nomenon which are collected, perhaps in the fullest manner, in Kuin- 
oel's Commentaiy on the Acts. Of these it is necessary to name only 
what the more recent investigations on the gift of tongues have ad- 
vanced for and against this interpretation. Here, first, Bleek 2 meets 
us in the history of the Pentecost, with the following difficulties. 1. 
The speaking of the disciples with tongues occurred before the 
multitude of foreign Jews had come together, which must have ap- 
peared wholly without an object, since words in foreign tongues 
could not have served as the natural expression of religious feelings. 
2. That if each one spoke a particular language, and if he was 
understood by those to whom this was vernacular, no reproach of 
drunkenness could have fallen on those who spoke. 3. Peter in the 
subsequent discourses makes no mention whatever of foreign lan- 
guages. Bleek remarks subsequently, that, if the narrative can be 
understood only of foreign tongues, then he must conclude that this 
circumstance was owing to an incorrect understanding of it by the 
reporter, [on whom Luke depended.] This he would do, rather 
than recognize the actual speaking in foreign languages. 3 Baur 
goes a step further still, when he allows, 4 that such could not have 
been the words in the account of the Pentecost, but that they belong 
to a traditional transformation of them, which transformation the 
original fact had already here received. The character of this 
transformation he seeks to point out from the poetico-rhetorical 
bearing of verses 6 — 12, from the obscurity in respect to the word 
' others' 5 in verse 13, 6 and from the failure of all traces of the event. 
Neander regards the narration simply as obscure, and hence would 
explain it from the remaining portions. Since these contain nothing 

1 Perhaps a dread of anything miraculous was the original occasion of 
this change. [< Genuine' in many respects, but misdirected here. — Tr.] 

2 1. 17, 18. 3 II. 62, 63. 4 P. 105, 1 06 note. 

5 6TSQ01. 

6 Acts 2: 13, " Others mocking, said these men are full of new wine." 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



101 



about foreign tongues, and since, moreover, there could be no use 
for such an endowment, 1 then he can admit nothing like this. 
That of a positive nature, however, which these learned men 
present for the tongues in question, is various. Bleek explains the 
word yXwaua thus, 6 an antiquated, provincial, altogether uncommon 
mode of speech, and without a particular explanation, unintelligible ; 
hence it could have been of use to those only, who, as orators and 
poets, spoke in a lofty tone of feeling.' This explanation, which 
others also had contemplated before him, he seeks to establish 
philologically by a very learned examination of the usage of ylaaaa 
in Greek ; he then turns to the existing forms of the expression in 
the New Testament and endeavors to exhibit the occurrences men- 
tioned in the Acts and in the epistle to the Corinthians as words in a 
lofty poetical dialect, with a mingling of such glosses. They were 
consequently unintelligible to the majority of the hearers, while the 
inability of the speaker to explain his own words was owing to the 
failure of his recollection.2 That such words might seem to be the 
operation of the Holy Spirit is owing in part to this reason— a lan- 
guage so elevated could not have been adapted to men with such 
little cultivation as the disciples of Jesus, and in part to the contents of 
what was uttered, a lofty commendation of the works of God. Ols- 
hausens assumes several stages in the gift, according to the degree of 
one's moral powers, and of the participation in other gifts. Thus 
the speaking with tongues was always an ecstasy ; but like somnam- 
bulism it passed over to the utterance of a foreign language, only 
when persons were present who were skilled in the language ; at the 
Pentecost such was actually the fact, even to the highest degree. 
To the gift of tongues there was also added the interpretation of 
them and prophecy. On the contrary, in respect to Corinth* he 
inclines strongly to the side of Eichhorn's hypothesis of an inar- 
ticulate sound. Billroth seeks to avoid the difficulties which rise 
against the various modes of interpretation by ' going a step beyond 
Olshausen* He explains it as « a speaking in a language which, 
in a certain degree, comprehended the elements of the various 
a ctually histor ical tongues." On the contrary, Baur, Steudel and 

1 This besides could have been no abiding possession. 

2 Herein resembling the Greek /udvng. 

3 Olshausen 1. 545, 546, 11. 568 seq. * U 575; 576> 
5 Billroth's Comm. on Corinth, pp. 177, 178. 



102 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



Neander recognize nothing but the vernacular tongue. They see 
nothing miraculous; they find in it merely that which was pro- 
duced or enlivened by the Spirit, that which was never before 
perceived in this manner, so far new that it uttered, as it were, with a 
new tongue— the organ of the Spirit — words concerning the mighty 
works of God, but which, in its nature as consisting in praise of God, 
had been long known in the inward experience of all the hearers, 
Jews and proselytes. As allied to the feelings which it had long be- 
fore cherished, its experience might be native or natural. 

Objections against the Theory of Foreign Tongues. 

In respect to the argument adduced by Bleek against the supposi- 
tion of foreign languages at the Pentecost, it cannot be denied, to be 
sure, that the narrative of Luke places the commencement of speak- 
ing with tongues at a time before the multitude of strangers had 
assembled, and Olshausen's supposition to the contrary, I. 542, 
does not agree with the meaning of the words in the passage. That 
such speaking might appear aimless to us is readily conceded, but to 
the consequence deduced from it, that it could not therefore have 
happened, we dare not assent ; because, by the same argument, we 
should not only make improbable many other narratives of the New 
Testament, but we should certainly occupy a false position, in de- 
siring to construe a fact according to our own peculiar views, forget- 
ting that very many things might have actually occurred, of which 
we not only cannot see the design, but might show even that they 
had no object, without, as a consequence, drawing the conclusion 
that they had no existence. The imputation of drunkenness might 
have occurred to evil disposed or frivolous minds just as well if each 
individual spoke a particular language, which was not vernacular to 
him, as if they all spoke in different dialects ; but it is very well 
known that nearly all drunken persons— even the better educated — 
in this situation are wont to fall upon speaking in a foreign language. 
That Peter in his discourse did not revert at all to the tongues is, 
moreover, no sufficient objection, because in the first place we cer- 
tainly do not possess the speeches of the apostle in their original 
form and perfection, 1 but only what Luke found in his authorities, or 

1 Who could have marked at such a moment, or have indicated in the 
least, what the man did say ? 



* 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 103 

regarded probable, either from tradition, or from his own reflections. 1 
Secondly, Peter had no reason whatever to do any thing more than 
to show that the prophecy of Joel was fulfilled in the fact which now 
lay notoriously before the eyes and ears of all. Since this con- 
tained nothing in respect to speaking with tongues, (and in the first 
moment no one certainly would think whether it differed from pro- 
phesying, and if so, how far), Peter would therefore naturally con- 
clude that the gift of tongues was contained in that of prophesying, 
and would satisfy his hearers, while he taught that it was to be de- 
rived from the Spirit just poured out. How little weight in general 
is to be attributed to the foregoing arguments may be seen from the 
fact, that Bleek himself, in conclusion, gives up one half the objec- 
tion. He remarks that the history seems strongly to point to foreign 
tongues, and that his resort to a traditional change of the original 
fact rests on the assumption 2 which Baur still maintains as unan- 
swerable. In the mean time, so much that is excellent has been 
said against this theory by Steudel 3 and Biiumlein, 4 that we may here 

1 [These various hypotheses in respect to Luke are without foundation. 
No one, perhaps, among the primitive Christians, with the exception of the 
twelve apostles, enjoyed better opportunities for becoming personally and 
familiarly acquainted with the events which he has recorded or the persons 
whom he has described. Eusebius relates that his birth-place was Antioch 
in Syria. If so he must have had good advantages for intercourse with 
Palestine Christians and with the heads of the infant church in Jerusalem. 
In accompanying Paul, he must have had abundant facilities for becoming 
acquainted with the men who had personally known our Lord, particularly 
the apostles. A number of individuals are mentioned by Paul 1 who were 
in Christ' before himself, and whom Luke must probably have known. For 
example Andronicus and Junias are alluded to, Rom. 16: 7, and Rufus, v. 13, 
who is supposed to be the son of Simon of Cyrene, who bore the cross of 
Jesus. There were also persons like Barnabas and Mark, whom Luke 
might have seen on their missionary journies. How often must he have 
heard the conversations of Paul with various individuals, when the facts in 
regard to the original history of Christianity were brought out ? How must 
the discourses and the reasonings of the apostle to the gentiles with Jews and 
with pagans have served to make Luke acquainted with the christian his- 
tory ? Luke was with Paul in Jerusalem, when the elders of the church 
were assembled. He was also with him at the time of his imprisonment at 
Caesarea and Rome. See some excellent remarks on this subject in Tho- 
luck's Credibility of the Evangelical History in the Reply to Strauss, 2d 
Ed., Hamburg, 1833, p. 148.— Tr.] 

2 This has been previously mentioned. 3 P. 135 seq. 4 P. 66 seq, 



104 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



well pass it over. We will now advert to the most recent exposi- 
tions. In respect to the history of the Pentecost, it has been re- 
marked by Olshausen and Baur, in opposition to Bleek, that the 
words iitgaiq yXojoaatg as explained by him would be unfitting 
and pleonastic ; that we cannot imagine how a phenomenon, such 
as Bleek supposes, could have been burdened with the name yXow- 
gcuq XaXelv ; that it is inconceivable how a discourse, be it ever so 
short, could be put together in mere glosses (in Bleek's sense). Be- 
sides, one would not name it from an unessential appendage, but 
from its peculiar, essential character, whether that character is ex- 
pressed by the words. 4 to speak in an ecstasy,' or 4 in the Spirit.' 1 
Though glosses may have been used by the poets in the sense in 
question, yet it cannot be proved, nor is it probable, that a poetically 
enlivened discourse would acquire a name from this single element 
alone, when its character was formed by many other things. Thus 
no result can be obtained from all which Bleek has brought forward 
on the phrase. The view maintained by him in respect to the his- 
tory of the Pentecost, neither is established, nor can be. 2 How is 
it credible that a mingling of this antiquated, provincial, or even po- 
etical style or mode of expression could have appeared so remarka- 
ble to any body that he would name the whole phenomenon merely 
in accordance with such a style or manner ; or that he could look 
upon this as a proof of the distinguished control of a higher power, 
or a 1 sign' 3 for the unbelievers ? Less credible is it, that the assem- 
bled multitude, on account of such expressions as this theory sup- 
poses, which possibly some understood in one way, others in ano- 
ther, should have exclaimed, 4 and now hear we every man in our 
own tongue wherein we were born,' — and 4 we do hear them speak 
in our tongue the wonderful works of God !' Why should they have 
said in amazement, 4 What meaneth this ?' How can it be account- 
ed for, that while in Jerusalem all were believed to understand what 
was uttered by means of these very expressions, at Corinth for the 
same reason, Paul would represent this entire mode of speaking as 
absolutely incapable of being understood ? Allow as we may that 
single expressions might remain not understood, still this cannot take 
away the impression of the whole. And must not the prophetic dis- 
course also, if it approximate in the least degree to the style of the 



* iv inordou or sv nvsvfiaxt XaXuv. See Olshausen I. 541, 543, 544. 
3 Baur, 87—89. 3 a?^uov. 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



105 



ancient prophets, have contained very much which was not under- 
stood by all, and thus glosses would be attached to it also ? And 
how could there have been a particular gift, charisma, connected 
therewith in order to explain and illustrate such expressions ; or how 
could the apostles have recommended silent communion with God to 
those who thus spoke ; and how could they have regarded it as so 
edifying for the speaker? In short, the more one looks into all those 
things which have been said in relation to this gift, the less is the 
probability, I venture to say, that he will find the essence of the thing 
to consist in this alone. 

Against Olshausen's supposition of various gradations, or stages 
in the gift, etc., a main argument, as I think, is, that it rests on no 
historical grounds. I will not examine whether such a confused in- 
termixture of the elements of all tongues, as Billroth's motley lan- 
guage implies, can be anywhere called a loyoq and furnish any sense 
whatever ; or even how far it might serve for edification. That, 
however, which must avail here, as well as in regard to Bleek's 
view, is, that such a discourse could not have appeared capable of 
being understood by the multitude in Jerusalem. The reverse must 
have been the fact to all without exception. It would be a mere 
confused pell-mell, with random human voices. Equal difficulties 
arise against the view of Baur, Steudel and Neander, with whom 
Baumlein has to do, particularly in the controversial parts of his trea- 
tise. If the speaking with tongues was in truth only the manifesta- 
tion of the Spirit in the consciousness of Christians, then we can- 
not conceive why the words of Jesus, the first sermon of Peter, Acts 
II, and the epistles of Paul, in all which still the christian spirit may 
be expressed, must not also be regarded as indicating the gift of 
tongues, (as this is placed in contradistinction to prophecy), and how 
this kind of speaking can be explained as absolutely unintelligible ? 
It must appear remarkable that the view of Baur is not strictly ap- 
plicable to the two main passages, Acts II, and 1 Cor. XIV. Why, 
moreover, should Luke have had in the first narrative a different 
conception of the subject from that in the last two passages where 
he mentions it ? But if Steudel deduces the unintelligibleness of the 
tongues in Corinth from the want of susceptible feelings in the church 
there, still a highly animated manner of presentation is always that 
which of itself makes the deepest impression on feelings little sus- 
14 



106 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



ceptible. 1 Besides, Paul would not, if he had so understood it, have 
checked those who spoke with tongues, but he would have censured 
the want of susceptibility in the hearers. It remains not less inex- 
plicable, how an animated discourse, declaring the works of God 
through Christ, could have had a definite import in the view of 
strangers, the sounds of which did not die away within them for a 
long time, while the same thing to the church at Corinth, (christian- 
ized years before), and presented in their native language, must have 
been in its very nature unintelligible and unedifying. This and se- 
veral other things, which cannot be here repeated, lead us to the 
conclusion, that the history of the Pentecost allows of no other inter- 
pretation, than that of a discourse of the disciples in the languages of 
the tribes to which their hearers belonged. To us such a phenome- 
non may be inconceivable ; to us it may be without aim ; we may 
think it improbable and even incredible. All this can have, it ought 
to have, no influence on our interpretation, where the words are so 
clear, and while all the other modes of explication are involved in a 
multitude of difficulties. Luke, therefore, understands in Acts EL, 
under stegalg ylMvaaig, a discourse in a language other than the ver- 
nacular ; so he does likewise in the two other passages under yKwuacu?. 
This also one will be most inclined to recognize in Mark 16: 17. Of 
glosses in Bleek's sense one can hardly think, when he reflects that 
this phenomenon comes in as a ar^uov in the series, along with cast- 
ing out devils, taking up serpents without being injured, etc. It is 
here almost inconceivable, that a discourse in a lofty poetical dic- 
tion could be added as mere glosses to the others — (a pleonasm being 
unsuitable) — and where hardly a contradiction can be thought of, 
which might seem to lie in the word xmvaig. It is very evident also 
that by this word we are not compelled to understand an absolutely 
new language. 2 



View of the Passage in Corinthians. 

After this digression, we return to the passage in Corinthians. 
Since we cannot recognize Bleek's theory of glosses, there seems to 
remain, as possible, but one of the causes of the unintelligibleness of 

1 Prophecy also, on this supposition, would be as little useful. 

2 Comp. Baumlein pp. 63 — 66. 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



107 



this subject mentioned above, on p. 98. This is, foreign languages. 
We will, therefore, recur to the particulars contained in this pas- 
sage, in order to ascertain, not so much whether any thing deci- 
sive in favor of such a view can be found there, (for this cannot be 
done), as whether there is any insuperable objection against it. 
The twelfth and thirteenth chapters include nothing of this nature. 
The ' kinds of tongues,' 1 mentioned in Ch. 12: 10, 28, may be the 
different languages, that is, the various tongues— ability to use these 
languages being conferred on believers by the Spirit, ' who worketh 
all things.' The 4 tongues,'2 Ch. 13: 1, are literally ' speech,' 
1 words,' while Paul, to be sure, here refers to the gift, charisma, 
and from the reference certainly selects this example, yet he says 
nothing of the languages themselves. From the identity of the 
word employed therefore, nothing follows in respect to the identity 
of the thing, provided the term yXwoou does not in every case, as 
used by him, necessarily mean a language. In verse 8, where he 
places yXwao-a along with ngocpyuia and yvmiq^ he has perhaps in 
his mind merely the idea of a gift, charisma. Nothing, therefore, 
could be inferred from the passage in itself. Yet it must be ad- 
mitted, that by the undoubted reference to the first verse, it would be 
the most natural to understand the yXwaaa as referring to languages. 
We now come to the fourteenth chapter, which is the principal pas- 
sage. Here the use of the singular yXwaa, is employed by the oppo- 
nents as an objection to the theory of different tongues. 3 An im- 
plied conjecture of the words eidoa and y.aivt] might indeed have lit- 
tle in its favor. 4 Such a conjecture, however, is not necessary. It 
will be sufficient that yXomaa means only 4 language,' ' speech.' If 
then the expression yXnwaig XuXelv was used in order to indicate 
briefly, 5 and intelligibly for contemporaries, a discourse in a lan- 
guage which was conferred by the Spirit, 6 then the singular number 
might be employed without objection. In that case yXam V XaXuv 
would mean, 6 to speak in a language by which all, who were ac- 

1 yivrj yXojGoow. 2 yAojoocu. 3 Bleek, I. 15. * Bleek, 11. 51. 

5 This is the single aim of language. Hence in the construction of par- 
ticular forms of expression for the purpose of indicating the phenomena in 
the subject in question, the process is far less laborious than in the often er- 
roneous language of verbal criticism, which subsequently assumes the task 
of interpretation. 

6 The foreign quality of it was neither the only nor the principal mark, 



108 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



quainted with the subject, would be reminded of one of those gifts 
which were communicated by the Spirit, without troubling himself 
to investigate further. At the same time, no one spoke except in a 
particular language. In the same manner yXaaaav s%h, verse 26, 
means, 1 he had a language,' to wit, one conferred by the Spirit, as 
all the other things there mentioned are gifts of the Spirit. He is in 
possession of one of those languages which the Spirit communicates ; 
consequently he has the ability to speak in it. On the philological 
side I therefore see no difficulty. 

A second argument, namely, that Paul could not have said ovdug 
axovei, verse 2, when in a city like Corinth there must always have 
been at least some persons who would have understood foreign lan- 
guages, has no weight with me, because, first, the fact itself is very 
doubtful, and, secondly, if it were so, these were only exceptions, 
rare exceptions, which Paul in an altogether general consideration of 
the thing did not think it necessary to bring into the account. The 
Greek conceitedness at that time allowed the people to acquire the 
languages of barbarians, as little as in our days many nations, not- 
withstanding all the intercourse with us Germans, allow themselves 
to learn our language. The Greek demanded that foreigners 
should study his tongue ; he could the more easily require this, as 
his master, the Roman, adapted himself to it, and in the unbounded 
extension of this language, he could not well come to any place 
where he would not find colonists of his race, or Hellenized barba- 
rians. Perhaps native Corinthians understood, along with the Greek, 
the Latin in part, but certainly not other languages ; and Paul 
needed not to refer to anything like an assembly of foreign visitors ; 
the less so, as he did not consider the matter so much according to 
its aspects in Corinth, as in its general features, wherever it existed. 

A third argument is deduced from the fact that he who spoke 
with tongues could not always interpret what he spoke. 1 This is in- 
deed remarkable, especially if we suppose that the individual was not 
in an unconscious, but in a conscious state; as we certainly believe 
that he must have been. One cannot conceive how a man could 
speak in a foreign tongue, and so speak as that he himself was 
edified thereby, and still be unable to interpret to others what was 
uttered. But not only can the inconceivableness of itself alone be 
no ground for denial, least of all in a matter where personal 



» Bleek 1. 23, 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



109 



observation and experience wholly fail us, but this same difficulty 
remains, and as I think, in a higher degree, in the other modes of 
explanation attempted in very recent times ; therefore it is not more 
decisive against one of these theories than it is against the others. 

In the fourth place, it is said, that were these yXwaaai foreign lan- 
guages, then Paul ought rather to have framed his admonition 1 so 
that these persons should have abstained altogether, when they 
would speak before a congregation, which did not understand them ; 
and if an interpretation intervened, no essential advantage could be 
derived. Besides, it would have been difficult to have used it in 
intercourse with others who spoke with tongues. 2 But here it is 
forgotten that Paul does not in the least demand the speaking by 
tongues, but only permits it, since as a gift of the Spirit he may not 
check it ; he may also assume that the one who spoke with tongues 
always had control over the gift, and in such a degree, that he could 
use it for the instruction of foreign nations ; yet this nowhere fol- 
lows from the statement of the apostle, neither does it accord with 
the history. The power of speaking with tongues seems not to have 
been an abiding one at all ; it was a cr^uop, it came in suddenly, 
and left its possessor again, when the high, ecstatic feeling which it 
produced passed away. To this we may add, what has been said on 
the nature of the words uttered, that it was not a didactic statement, 
but an out-pouring of the heart, and hence Paul could have given no 
other precept respecting it, than that which he has given, if he did 
not wish to check the thing altogether. 

Another objection is the one raised by me in the Commentary on 
Ch. 14: 18, 28, 3 that we cannot conceive what connection foreign 
languages had with silent intercourse with God ; how Paul could 
have used them for this purpose, or admonished others in relation 
thereto. I still have the same difficulty, and had we knowledge of 
the yluaoaL only from his letters, then I should possibly attribute 
some weight to the argument ; now I cannot do it ; besides, what 
seems to be unfitting to me is not necessarily so to others. Still it is 
possible that Paul, (who regarded the phenomenon as the effect of 
the operation of the Divine Spirit), as well as the historian of the 
Pentecost, may have discovered, (from some grounds unknown to 

1 1 Cor. 14: 26-28. 2 Bleek 1. 24 ~ 

3 "I thank my God I speak with tongues more than ye all." » But if 
there be no interpreter, let him keep silence," etc. 



110 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



us), that the praising of God in foreign languages was more becom- 
ing, than it now appears to us. In the same way may the case 
stand in relation to verses 10, 12. While we read Paul's epistles 
alone, what is there said may decide us against the idea of lan- 
guages ; but if we recollect, that the occurrence at the Pentecost is 
conceivable only on the supposition of foreign languages, and that 
we cannot allow ourselves to lose sight of the presupposition, that 
the phenomenon with which Paul had to do, was essentially like the 
one which first comes before us in the Acts, then we may indeed 
wonder how he could have expressed himself as he has done in the 
Epistle ; but though it is not impossible that he has committed a 
logical fault, we do not believe ourselves called upon to overthrow 
everything which we have elsewhere recognized, until we have 
evidence that he is guilty of such a fault. It therefore follows, that 
the passage in the Corinthians contains nothing, which makes it 
absolutely impossible to understand the gift of tongues as a power, 
in particular moments of high inspiration, to praise God in languages 
which one had never before learned. 



Conclusion. 

What now is the result ? In my opinion it is this. All which we 
have above ascertained, pp. 93-7, on the nature of the mysterious gift, 
remains untouched. Hence it is not needful that it should be re- 
peated. In respect to the unintelligibleness of its form we cannot 
come to perfect certainty ; still from the notices which the history 
of the Pentecost supplies, a strong probability arises in favor of the 
theory of foreign languages ; the observations also, which Paul 
makes in our Epistle in relation to it, in part easily fall in with this 
supposition, and in part do not stand in such opposition as to compel 
us in consequence to give up what, from the narration of the first 
introduction of the gift, appears to follow inevitably. Therefore, 
without being able to say, that we know the precise circumstances of 
the case, we have still arrived at so much as this, we know to what 
conclusion the single authorities which we have at our command 
will lead us ; and at that point, I believe, we must stop, while all the 
advance which we might make would remove us from that position 
which we regard as the only possible one for such an investigation. 
At this point we therefore stop. 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



Ill 



[Riickert frequently refers, in the preceding article, to his Com- 
mentary on the chapters in the first epistle to the Corinthians which 
treat of the spiritual gifts. We here subjoin one or two extracts 
from his Commentary. They will serve for an outline of the 
apostle's course of thought. On Chap. XII, Riickert remarks : 
" Paul speaks of things which were then perfectly well known. 
He addressed the persons among whom these things occurred. He 
employed expressions which were in every-day use. His object 
was not to explain the nature of these gifts to the Corinthians, but to 
give them directions in respect to the value of the gifts. It was 
not his design to communicate information to those who should live 
in subsequent centuries, but to check the abuse of the gifts at the 
time. Every trace of the things which Paul here handles was lost 
in the progress of time. We know nothing of them except what 
can be drawn from the discussion itself, compared with some passa- 
ges in the Acts of the Apostles." 

The thought which serves as the basis of the argument in Chap. 
XII is, " that everywhere in Christianity, the Divine Spirit is the 
agent, operating as the cause or principle of the Christian life. Paul 
then proceeds to the special object of the inquiry, namely, the value 
of the particular manifestations of the Holy Spirit's agency, and the 
preference which should be given to one or to another of the gifts 
in question. Paul thus, indeed, allows that there is a diversity in the 
gifts, but, in tracing back one and all of them to the same source— 
the Spirit, he calls attention to the common value of all, and points 
out the object which all should promote, namely, the general good 
of the Christian body." 

" The 13th Chapter is a delineation of the ' more excellent way,' 
or an illustration of the fact, that love is that one among the graces 
of the Christian, without which no gift, no virtue has any real value. 
Love is the best and noblest of all the graces, the fountain of all 
true virtue. It shall remain when all other gifts shall fail." 

Riickert thus sums up Chap. XIV. The gifts of the Spirit are 
various ; yet the God who bestows them is but one, and the design 
of all is the common good. While the body of man has many mem- 
bers, there is yet but one body. One member is not independent of 
another. All are intended for one harmonious whole. So the 
Church of Christ is one body of the Lord. All Christians are mem- 



112 



SPEAKING WITH TONGUES. 



bers of this body. They have different offices, but each is to labor 
for the good of the others, and thus promote the well-being of the 
whole. All cannot have the same business ; each one might, how- 
ever, strive after the highest gifts, but still there is a more excellent 
blessing — love. Without this, no gift, no knowledge, no power, 
no virtue even would be of any value. The Corinthians should 
rather desire prophecy than speaking with tongues. The one who 
spoke with tongues edified himself only, since no one could under- 
stand him; the prophet edified the church. Paul desired indeed 
that all might enjoy the gift of tongues, but rather that they should 
prophesy, since the former consisted in unintelligible words, and, 
without interpretation, was useless, etc. 

In addition to the authors, before mentioned, who have written on 
the Gift of Tongues, we may name Baur and Steudel in the Tubin- 
gen Zeitschrift, 1830 ; and Baumlein, in Klaiber's Stud, der Evang. 
Geistlichkeit Wurtemb. VI. No. 2. 1834.— Tr.] 



SPECIMENS OF THE SERMONS 

OF 

DR. A. THOLUCK, 



15 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 1 



SERMON 1.2 

' THE RELATION OF CHRISTIANS TO THE LAW. 

If we institute a comparison between the form which piety assumes 
in our own time, and that which it assumed in the time of our fore- 
fathers, we shall find that a prominent distinction between the two 
is the following : the piety of our forefathers was connected in a 
high degree with an external discipline in religious duties, while 
piety with us is dependent upon this discipline no further than the 
feelings of any one may more or less incline him to make it so. 
Our fathers were stimulated by faith in these words of the apostle, — 
4 God will have all men to be saved, and come to the knowledge of 
the truth ;' and they demanded therefore of every one, that he pray 
* with fear and trembling,' that he seek, that he knock, until the 
door be opened, until Christ come and keep the sacramental feast 
with his soul. We, on the contrary, seem to be often influenced by 
an impression, that the language of the apostle, ' all men have not 
faith,' has no other meaning than this, — in order to have faith men 
must be inwardly organized as it is called, in an appointed way. 
And accordingly we see, that the one class of believers displayed, in 
their life, a fertile power of faith, and brought forth much fair 
fruit ; while the other class remain dry and unfruitful trees. Our 
fathers however found a great part of their guilt to consist in the 
fact, that the discipline of the law did not control, with sufficient 
power, their internal christian character. If now we take notice 
that Christians of modern days are speaking constantly and ex- 
clusively of Freedom, of Spirit, of the Children of God, but very 
seldom of the Discipline of Law, of Self-denial, and the true idea of 

1 See Note A, at the close of the Sermons. 

2 An Analysis of each sermon is given in the notes. For an analysis of 
this, see Note B, at the close of the Sermons. 



116 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLTJCK. 



the word Servant of God ; we shall regard it as a profitable exer- 
cise, to examine the question, what is the true idea of the outward 
disciplinary influence of law upon the inward christian character. 
A comprehensive and profound explanation of the subject we find in 
the expression of our Lord. Mark 2: 27, 28. " And he said unto 
them, the Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath. 
Therefore the Son of man is Lord also of the Sabbath day." 

There is something enigmatical in these words, and yet their 
meaning may be easily discovered. That the Saviour permitted his 
disciples to pluck the ears of corn on the Sabbath, and thus to break 
the law of a rigid observance of the day, has been a stumbling stone 
to theologians. 1 By this act the Lord shows what is the binding 
force of an external, and especially a ceremonial law. Man, he 
says, was not made for the Sabbath ; that is, the end of man's ex- 
istence is not attained by the observance of the ceremonial law, the 
end of his existence is life in God ; instead of man's being made for 
the Sabbath, the Sabbath was made for him, that is$ such external 
ordinances as the Sabbath, are instituted only for the purpose of 
educating man ; they are an external discipline, designed to form 
him from without to that character, for which he has no strength to 
determine himself from within. The thoughts of man, created as 
he is by God, should habitually come forth from within, to fasten on 
his Creator. The flesh, however, is weak ; Israel must therefore 
have its Sabbath and Christendom its Sunday, so that by this out- 
ward discipline, the spirit may be educated to the same goodness 
which it ought to work out from its inward impulses. And as these 
ceremonial commands and ordinances are given merely for the sake 
of man, so likewise in a certain sense may it be said, that all the 
moral commands of God, as far as they are mere commands, are 
given for the same end. Only while the Spirit of God does not in- 
cline us from within to all good, are these commands necessary. 
But the Son of man, as it is here said, is Lord of the Sabbath ; for 
whoever has the Spirit without measure, as Christ is represented to 
have had, can stand in no need of a law educating from without. 

You see, my worshipping friends, how clearly as well as pro- 
foundly this language of the Saviour instructs us in the application 
of the outward discipline of law to faithful Christians. The Son of 
man and of God is Lord over the law, because he has the Spirit 
1 See Note C, at the close of the Sermons. 



DISCIPLINE OF LAW. 



117 



without measure. The same Spirit, however, will be given to his 
followers through faith : and therefore this language teaches us, in 
the first place, that where the Spirit of God controls, the outward 
discipline of the law ceases ; but it teaches us, with the same cer- 
tainty, in the second place, that where the Spirit of God does not 
yet control, there the outward discipline of the law must remain. 

I say, where the Spirit of God controls, there all outward discipline 
of the law ceases. To the righteous, says the apostle, no law is 
given ; and again, where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty ; 
and still again, all things are yours ; and finally, I have all power. 1 
These are bold, they are hazardous words. They are such words, 
as a fanatic hurls, as he would a burning torch, into the world. 
And yet, beloved, we have long known, that as there must be a light 
to make a shadow, so there must be a great truth to correspond with 
every great error ; that the errors, which we call effective, only 
borrow their efficiency from a great truth deformed. It is undenia- 
ble, that Christianity, in its development, aims at a state, in which 
there is a degree of freedom, which excludes all kind of restraint. 
Where the Spirit of God controls the inmost affections with absolute 
sway, there, certainly, the commands of religion cease to interfere 
with the man's will ; yea, no commands at all are given to such a 
man. What does he know of the command, Love God above all 
things else, when the love of God is to him the very life of his soul ? 
What does he know of the command, Love thy brother, when 
brotherly love has become so much of a second nature to him, that 
he ceases to breathe when he ceases to love ? The same may be 
said of all the commands of religion, of self-denial, chastity, humili- 
ty. As it stands recorded of the pious man, that he is a tree 
planted by the water-brooks, which bringeth forth its fruit in its 
season, so all good works, in their season, that is, whenever they are 
called for from without, are performed by the man of this priestly 
spirit, without his even thinking of the fact, that they are- required 
"by a command. 

Does this ideal of character, which I present before you, seem 
too elevated ? Consider the manner in which we, who have re- 
ceived the first fruits of the Spirit, are already affected in reference 
to civil la ws? W ho is influenced by the consideration, that the 

1 See 1 Tim. 1: 9~2Cor. 3: 17. 1 Cor. 3: 21 . 2 Cor. 4715- 6. 10.. Phil. 4r 
S3. 1 Cor. 6: 12, 10 j 21— Tr. 



118 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



civil law commands, under severe penalties, thou shalt not steal, 
thou shalt not commit adultery. These commands are obeyed by 
us from our own inward impulses. We should be obliged to deny 
ourselves, in order to conduct differently from what the law re- 
quires ; and therefore amid all the restraints of command, we know 
ourselves to be free. — Oh how happy is that state, when we do not 
need to urge ourselves to obey the law of God ; when, as Paul says, 
the Spirit of God incites the children of God ; when it is no more 
commanded from without, do this, do that, forsake this, forsake 
that ; when to do the will of the Deity is the food of our souls. He 
who has been made by the Divine Spirit, thus inwardly free from all 
law ; how he stands up, untrammelled amid the restraints imposed 
by all the relations of the world, yea even by its calamities ! He is 
free when in chains, free in the prison, free under the pressure of 
gnawing disease. — It is the will of God which has selected for me 
the chain, the prison, the disease ; and as my will is not discordant 
with the Divine, so under all these restrictions I am free. Imagine, 
what must be my consciousness of king-like elevation, when all the 
events, which occur to me as by necessity from without, are yet 
freely chosen and determined by myself. That was the sentiment 
of a king, with which the first Christians went through the world, 
and with which Paul cried out, All things are yours. Yea truly 
where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom ; but where it is 
not, there discipline is imperiously needed. 

And does this Spirit of the Lord rule constantly in us, who are 
believers ? If Paul speaks of himself and of all Christians, as those 
who have received only the first fruits of the Spirit, and who are 
even yet waiting for the full harvest ; — and not only the creature, 
he says, but we ourselves also, who have received the first fruits of 
the Spirit, long within ourselves after the adoption ; L if he speaks 
thus of himself, what must we, in our poverty, say of ourselves ? 
This we must say ; that where the Spirit of God does not control, 
there the external discipline of the law must remain. Yea, friends, 
so far as the Spirit of God does not bear the sceptre within us all, 
so far we still need the law. And particularly, we need the law, in 
the first place, as a representative of the virtue which we do not 
possess ; in the second place, as a barrier against the sin which 



1 Rom. 8: 23. 



DISCIPLINE OF LAW. 119 

importunes us ; and in the third place, as a seal of the method of 
salvation which we have chosen, of salvation by grace. 1 

We need the law, as a representative of the virtue which we do 
not possess. The knowledge of sin, says Paul, comes from the law, 
and in this manner we obtain an idea of that virtue of which we are 
destitute. Many proofs may be given of the truth of Christianity, 
and of the divine origin of the Holy Scriptures ; but, my friends, 
I am not able to mention a single proof, which is higher and more 
urgent than this,— there is no book which unfolds, as the Bible does, 
the secrets of the human heart. The mysteries of God are great in 
the height to which the Bible has carried us ; but truly the mysteries 
of the human heart, in the depth to which the Bible has carried us, 
are equally great ; and in proportion as the Spirit of the Lord does 
not rule in our affections, we must be educated, all the days of our 
life, in this school of self-knowledge. Paul was far advanced in the 
knowledge of himself, and yet he felt obliged to utter the memorable 
remark,—' It is to me a small thing, that I should be judged before a 
human tribunal; I even judge not mine own self: lam conscious 
of nothing amiss, but by this pure consciousness I am not justified ; 
it is the Lord who judgeth me? If you would perceive, my friends, 
how far you have advanced in the knowledge of yourselves, then 
answer the question,— can you repeat, in sincere self-application, 
these words of the apostle ? Are you actually persuaded, that if 
you were conscious of having committed no sin at all, still you 
would not be thereby justified ? If you can and must acknowledge 
this, then you need a mirror, which may show you the virtue which 
is wanting ; you need the mirror of the divine law. 

To be particular, I understand here by the term law, not merely 
the laws of the Old Testament, but every thing which stands re. 
corded in the Scriptures, so far as we consider it as a command, 
from winch may be learned the claims of God. Thus the narrations 
of the Old Testament, in which God contends with his people, be- 
cause they were continually forsaking the fountain of life, and 
becoming idolaters, are a mirror of the law, a constant proclamation 
to the heart of man,-' Thou shalt have no other Gods besides me > 
So the whole history of Jesus Christ is a proclamation to the heart of 

. '^f^Jl^^d in its wide sense, as exemptionlr^n~pu^sh^e7t 
hereafter, and from its precursors here.— Tr, 

9 1 Cor. 4: 2, 3. See Calvin on the passage. Vol. I. P. 257.— Tr. 



120 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



man, ' Whoever says, that he abides in Christ, let him walk even 

as Christ has walked.' So the whole history of Paul is a continued 
proclamation, — ' Be ye followers of me, even as I am of Christ.' The 
©reaching too of all the witnesses of the Gospel, those mentioned in 
the Scripture, and those out of it, are a continued exhortation, — 
i Wherefore let us also, since we are surrounded with such a crowd 
of witnesses, lay aside the sin which retards our spiritual progress, 
and makes us always sluggish.' 'For,' says the same apostle, 1 all 
Scripture, given by God, is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for 
reformation, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God 
may be perfect, made ready for every good work.' Ye who are 
sincere and earnest in your profession of religion, do ye daily hold 
before your eyes this mirror of God's claim upon us ? Again, and 
yet again have I pointed you to the law ; and has even one, here 
and there, actually reduced it to practice ? I hope in God it is so ; 
and yet there have been very few seasons, when the preached Gos- 
pel has so easily found applause, but so hardly found obedience. 
Ah, after what do many preachers of the word themselves inquire 
and seek? Instead of inquiring, whether the preached word be 
obeyed, do they not seek after the miserable approbation of their 
fellow men ? — The cause of this disobedience to the preached Gos- 
pel, is the fact, that we, the Christians of this time, give way too 
much to our evil propensities. And from the very fact, that we too 
freely surrender ourselves to sinful impulse, arises our need of the 
discipline of law. 

Secondly, where the Spirit of God does not bear sway, we need 
the external discipline of the law as a barrier against the sins which 
importune us. As every deed of man is an efflux from his will, so 
the deed operates back again upon its source. As from the sinful 
thought, sinful words and sinful actions emanate, so the sinful words 

"XT" 

and actions have a reflex influence upon the thought. V amty, anger, 
unchaste desire harass our spirits within, and are clamorous to break 
out in words. At last you speak the word,— the fiery dart flies 
back ignited into your heart. Therefore what the Lord said to Cain 
is always appropriate ; — ' If thou be not seriously inclined, sin lieth at 
the door ; yet surrender thou not thy desire to it, but rule over it.' 1 

1 Gen. 4: 7. If thou doest not well, sin stands ready to be committed, lieth 
in wait for thee ; but thy duty is, not to be overcome by it, not to comply with 
its solicitations however urgent, Rom. 6: 12, but to resist and subdue it. This 
is the interpretation of Rosenmdller and others. — Tr. 



DISCIPLINE OF LAW. 121 

Christians, we are permitted in no circumstances to surrender our 
wills to sin. If the spirit cannot repress it from its own impulses, 
we must place against it, from without, the barrier of the law. In 
the effeminacy of the present times, our Christianity fails in this 
respect, more than in any other. Our religion is one of feeling, but 
not of prayer and of law. If we feel ourselves piously excited, then 
we are pious; if the feeling be irreligious, then we yield to impulse 
and are irreligious. But have we not read, that ' through the^ Spirit 
we should die to the things of the flesh ?' Christians, every instant 
of our life, must we obey the invisible King, whose we are ? Can 
we not obey him as his children ? Well then, we must obey him 
as his servants. Obey, we must. Accordingly, there must be, 
every instant, some ruling power in the life of a Christian, to control 
him ; and if this be not the flame of the spirit from within, it must 
be the barrier of the law from without. Who has fteen a man of 
such spiritual excellence as Paul ? And yet even with him the 
work of sanctification was not completed with perfect ease, and 
freedom from the law. Even he was obliged to set before himself 
a dike and barrier from without ; for he says, ' I mortify my body 
and afflict it, that I may not preach the Gospel toothers, and be 
myself cast away.' Wherefore, Christians, write it deeply upon your 
consciences, nothing is less seemly for a religious man, than for 
him at any time to give the rein to his evil passions. He only can 
give way to his impulses who has no Lord. But we, if we live, then 
let us live to the Lord ; if we die, then let us die to Him. Whether 
therefore we live or die, we still are the Lord's. A Christian can- 
not surrender himself up to evil feelings ; either he will be incited 
by the urgency of the Holy Spirit, or he will be held back by the 
barrier of the law of God. Beloved, think of a man, who has been 
permitted to dwell near his monarch, before the face of that mon- 
arch to pass his life, will he ever let himself depart from that mon- 
arch's will ? No He will never allow this departure. If he is not 
incited by the spirit of reverence and love from within, he will yet 
be held back from without by the restraints of the law. But we 
also. Christians, live continually before the face of a great King, the 
omnipresent God ; wherefore woe to us, if we ever let ourselves 
depart from his will ! 

This is the place for learning the nature of those external laws, 
which are not properly moral laws, but are simply designed for the 
16 



122 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



discipline and regulation of the outer life. You may perhaps have 
often looked with astonishment upon that indefinite number of ex- 
ternal ceremonies and statutes, with which Moses encompassed the 
children of the old dispensation. An Israelite could scarcely spend 
a single hour, without being reminded of some one of the many out- 
ward duties, which were prescribed for him. These outward 
disciplinary laws were the very barrier, which has been described 
for the sinful inclinations of such a heart as was not swayed by the 
Spirit. If, from the depth of the Israelite's consciousness, the feeling 
did not force itself upon him, that he was dependent, constantly, and 
in all his deeds upon the invisible King of all kings, still, by such a 
system of outward legal discipline, this feeling must have been ever 
freshly excited in his bosom. He was not permitted to resign him- 
self to his impulses. Every one of these commands would be, as it 
were, a fact preaching to the heart that had forgotten its Creator, — 
Man, thou art a servant of God. And since we, Christians, so far 
as the Spirit of the Lord does not dwell within us, stand in general, 
like the Israelites, under the outward discipline of the law, so we 
cannot dispense with such an outward disciplinary administration, 
such external ordinances. They are a barrier to the sins that 
harass our minds. 

How far even the most spiritual Christian is from being so much 
of a spirit, as to have no further need of the prescribed external ob- 
servances, I am able to show by an example relating to the services of 
divine worship. You have heard of that sect of Christians, calling 
themselves by the simple name of Friends, who strenuously insist, 
that in the sacred assemblies of Christians the fire of devotion should 
enkindle itself simply and solely from within ; and they therefore 
wish to hear of no call of the bell to devotion, no temples stretching 
up toward heaven, no sacred vestments for the Sabbath, and no holy 
seasons. They come together under no other sound of the bell than 
that of praying souls ; and with no other sacred vesture, than the 
ornament of devotion. And in what other manner, they ask, can 
we properly explain the instructions of the Lord about worshipping 
in spirit and in truth ? And it is a fact ; did the sacred tide of 
spiritual influence diffuse itself through our whole internal system, 
what need should we have of these solemn altars, and these sacer- 
dotal vestments; of the sound of the bell, and the organ-tone, and 
of such halls aspiring to heaven ? Oh, at that Sabbath, when 



DISCIPLINE OF LAW. 



123 



Christians shall keep their everlasting rest, the time will have ar- 
rived, when we shall worship perfectly, in spirit and in truth ; when 
the glorified company of the Lord shall no more need the organ, 
and the sound of the bell, to awaken their inward devotion ! But who 
of us is not fully convinced, that in our present state, the Spirit of 
the Lord having manifested himself within us scarcely in his first 
fruits, we cannot dispense, not even the most spiritual among us, 
with these outward ordinances and disciplinary forms ? If then, in 
the public worship of God, the external regulation must come to the 
aid of the spirit, the same is true in our whole religious life. We 
need an external regulation which may cooperate with the efforts of 
the spirit. The whole Christianity of our time too wants such an 
external system ; for it is moving in uncertainty hither and thither 
upon the waves of feeling. There is no longer a solemn observance 
of Sundays and a regular attendance at church : there is but little 
regular secret prayer in the closet, or social prayer in the family. 
Spirit ! Spirit ! we cry out ; but should the prophets of God come 
again, as they came of old, and should they look upon our works, — 
Flesh ! Flesh ! they would cry out in response. Of a truth, my 
friends, even the most spiritual among us cannot dispense with a 
rule, a prescribed form, in his morality and piety, without allowing 
the flesh to resume its predominance. You are all obliged to con- 
fess, that the sway of the Spirit of God within your minds is yet 
weak ; carry, then, holy ordinances into your life. As the apostle 
commands you, take your food with the expression of thanks; by 
this means will you be reminded that your sustenance is the gift of 
unmerited mercy. — Observe your Sunday by attendance at church, 
and by prayer ; so you may vividly call to mind, at least on that 
day, as you do not during the whole week, who your Lord is, and 
to what company you belong. Offer solitary prayer in your closet, 
and social prayer in your family. And should it seem to you that 
the yoke is too severe, reflect that you have already received the 
first fruits of the Spirit ; love to your Saviour has commenced within 
you ; and this principle of love, must unite with the principle of 
obedience, else it will be nearly as difficult for you as for any one 
to obey the law, simply because it is law. Think of the severest 
duties, the acutest sufferings of disease, the heaviest losses ; is it not 
true, that love will here insinuate itself, and if it will not do every 
thing, will at least help to make the duty and the command easy to you ? 



124 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



But if the external discipline of the law were necessary neither as 
a representation of virtue, which we have not, nor as a barrier 
against the sins which harass us, still it would be beneficial as a 
seal of the method of salvation which we have chosen — of salvation 
by grace. Let us now, in the conclusion of our discourse, glance 
at this topic. 

This outward discipline of the law, if we subject ourselves to it, is 
a perpetual seal, that the way to the Father, which we have chosen, 
a way opened by the grace that appears in Christ, is all that can 
make man happy. Whoever faithfully subjects himself to the 
discipline of the divine law, is confident, is without a doubt, that 
neither happiness in the world to come, nor peace in the present 
world, is ever obtained on the ground of mere desert. Such an one 
learns for the first time, by this legal discipline, how difficult it is to 
obey the law of God. — But you ask, can there be among us the 
false conceit, that any one has merit before God, when there is no 
word oftener sounded in our ears from the pulpit, than Love, and 
Grace ? My friends, I tell you, this error does prevail among 
us, and perhaps in no less degree than in the church, from which 
ours originated. With the altered times, indeed, this error has as- 
sumed a new dress. It has put on the garb of moral improvement. 
The hand of eternal justice holds the two scales of the balance ; into 
the left scale fall your wicked deeds, and into the right your virtues. 
Will the right be so heavy as to sink ? — Will the right sink ? — Oh, 
I would not depend upon it, that from the heart of any one present, 
there would come a negative answer to this question. I could not 
confidently anticipate such an answer, for — your eye is too dim to 
discern what falls into the left scale. You perceive the works of 
your hand, but the works of your mouth, of your heart, you see not. 
But look, Christians, at the unrighteous words, the unrighteous 
thoughts and wishes, which have been ever rising up from your 
hearts ! Behold them — fallen down without number into the left 
scale. But I hear the words uttered eagerly, loudly, and without 
delay, from the hearts of most men, — " Ah no ! the right hand scale 
will rise /" What then, my friends, will you place in it, so that it 
may sink ? Will you place in it the unmerited mercy of God in 
Jesus Christ?— Oh I see, I see that some tears drop into the right 
hand scale ; some tears of sadness and penitence ; and the left scale 
seems to ascend before your eyes. — Yea, Christians, if the church 



GENTLENESS OF C HEIST. 



125 



of Rome has placed a legal righteousness in mortifications and 
pilgrimages, so have we placed a legal righteousness in tears. It is 
indeed very true, there is in a solitary tear an uncomputed weight, 
greater than all the weight of the mountains of the world : in a tear 
which flows from the deepest fountain of the penitent soul ; and yet, 
even tears cannot atone for us. And the reason of their insufficiency 
is not the simple fact, that our penitence is never deep enough, and 
our tears are never warm enough ; by no means ; nothing but the 
pure unmerited grace of God, appropriated to ourselves by faith, can 
make the atonement for our sins. — Believer, this grace will fall into 
your right hand scale, and the scale will sink ! — To this consciousness 
now, that neither our works nor our tears can cause the right hand 
scale to descend, only that man comes, who has travelled in the 
rough way of the discipline of God's law. So it is then, that this 
severe life under the law stamps a sure seal upon the fact, that we 
have chosen for our good the way of grace, a way that conducts us 
to happiness in the life to come, and to peace of heart in this life. 

Come then, Christians, whoever of you are earnestly engaged for 
your highest welfare, never surrender yourselves to your sinful im- 
pulses. Pray for the Spirit of God, who moveth the children of 
God from within. Whenever a single duty, a single command is 
presented to your conscience and you are not able to perform the 
duty, to obey the command, under the mere incitement of the spirit, 
then surrender yourselves in obedience to the divine law. It will 
be for you a school-master to bring you to Christ, and to afford you 
the favor of communing with the Son of man. Whoever is actua- 
ted by the Spirit of God, the same is Lord of the Sabbath. He is a 
righteous man, and as the apostle says, no law is given to him. 



SERMON II. i 

GENTLENESS OF CHRIST. 

Christians, this day are you assembled the second time, for the 
purpose of celebrating the advent of a child. W T hat a birth-day 
1 For an Analysis of this Sermon, see Note D, at the close of the Sermons. 



126 



SERMONS OF PEOF. THOLUCK, 



solemnity is this ! What child is there among mortals, whose birth 
is celebrated by such multitudes as in all parts of the world go this 
day to their holy places, and by such tears of joy as are poured out 
this day in many a closet. And this has been the fact for eighteen 
hundred years, and will continue to be, as long as time shall endure. 
My christian friends, either this child was in fact incomparably su- 
perior to all children, who have ever been placed at the mothers 
breast ; or else Christendom is devoted to error, as no other com- 
munity of men has been. But no ! Christians, under no miscon- 
ception do you come together in the holy place ; under no miscon- 
ception do the flames of sacrifice ascend, pure and holy, to heaven, 
from all parts of the world, on this day. The child that was born to 
you to day is the Prince of Peace, the Government is upon his 
shoulders. And the two days which are set apart in our christian 
community, for the purpose of celebrating his advent, are only the 
highest point of that festival in honor of the infant's birth, which is 
observed by all redeemed hearts as often as, in their anguish and 
forebodings, they console themselves with the thought, that this infant 
is the Redeemer from all sin and all evil. 

Delightful and instructive is this day-spring from on high, as the 
Holy Scriplure denominates the birth of Jesus, whether we consider 
what the Redeemer has abolished, or the particular style of action 
which he adopted. It is this last consideration which will engage 
our minds during our present exercise. The passage, to which we 
annex the discussion, we find in 1 Kings, 19: 1 — 13. — " And Ahab 
told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had slain all the 
prophets with the sword. Then Jezebel sent a messenger unto 
Elijah, and said unto him, — c May the gods do to me this and more 
also, if I do not, tomorrow about this time, make thy life like the life 
of one of these men.' When he saw that, he arose and went forth 
whither he would, and came to Beersheba in Judah and left his 
servant there. But he himself went a day's journey into the desert, 
and came and seated himself under a juniper tree, and prayed that 
he might die, and said, — ' It is enough; so now, Lord, take away 
my life ; I am not better than my fathers.' And he lay down and 
slept under the juniper tree. And behold, an angel touched him, 
and said to him, — ' Rise up and eat.' And he looked around him, 
and behold at his head lay toasted bread and a can of water* And 
when he had eaten and drank, he lay down again to sleep. And 



GENTLENESS OF CHRIST. 



127 



the angel of the Lord came the second time, and touched him, and 
said, — ' Rise up and eat ; for thou hast a long journey before thee.' 
And he arose, and ate and drank, and went on the strength of that 
food forty days and forty nights, even to Horeb, the mount of God. 
And he went unto a cave there, and remained in the cave over 
night. And behold, the word of the Lord came unto him, and said to 
him, — ' What doest thou here, Elijah ?' He said,—' I have been zeal- 
ous for the Lord, the God of Hosts ; for the children of Israel have 
forsaken thy covenant, and broken down thine altars, and slain thy 
prophets with the sword ; and I only am left, and they attempt to 
take my life. 4 Go forth,' he said, ' and stand upon the mount before 
the Lord.' And behold the Lord passed by, and a great and strong 
wind rent the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the 
Lord ; but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind, came an 
earthquake ; but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after 
the earthquake, came a fire ; but the Lord was not in the fire. And 
after the fire came a gentle soft sound. When Elijah heard this,, 
he hid his face in his mantle, and went out, and stood in the door of 
his cave." 

When you see the child of God, whose birth we this day cele- 
brate, descending in the still night to the manger in little Bethle- 
hem, unnoticed by all the great and wise of the earth ; and when 
you see the small company of shepherds celebrating the natal day ; 
and when you understand the passage just recited from the Old 
Testament ; tell me, does it not appear to you as if the ancient 
narration, which we have read, were barely a prophetical discourse 
on the birth of your Saviour ? — The Lord is not in the storm and 
the tempest, but in the gentle soft sound ; — this is the sentiment here 
proclaimed to us. It is indeed true, that when originally uttered, 
the words had a reference very different from that which we have 
just noticed. If we look for the meaning of this elevated symboli- 
cal appearance in the connection of Elijah's history, we shall see 
how the great prophet had been consumed with zeal in the contest 
against the impiety of his nation, and how his love of life even had 
forsaken him. 1 He went a day's journey into the wilderness, and 
seated himself under a juniper tree, and prayed that he might die, 
and said, — It is enough, so take now, Lord, my life from me.' This 
appearance therefore may be regarded as a mere admonition, that 
God was not in the consuming zeal of Elijah, so far as that zeal was 



128 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



unsustained by love, by patience, by forgiveness. There would be 
found, in this reference of our text, a rich subject of consideration, 
if I were disposed to show you, in what way the zeal of Elijah must 
be tempered, in order that God may be in it. The topics for con- 
sideration and application, which the subject presents to us, are very 
various, whether we apph 7 the subject to the mode in which we are 
related to God, or the mode in which He is related to us ; whether 
we apply it to the history of the world, or to an individual heart. 
Variously and in multiplied forms is it true, that God is not in the 
storm and tempest, but in the soft gentle sound. 1 To day, however, 
we will consider this truth in regard to the manifestations of the 
Saviour of the world ; and, first, in regard to his entrance into the 
world ; secondly, in regard to his progress through the world ; and 
thirdly, in regard to his departure from it. Throughout the whole 
discussion, we will inquire how he might have appeared when con- 
fronting a finite race, and when confronting a sinful race, and how 
he actually did appear. 

1. ' The Lord is not in the storm and the tempest, but in the soft 
gentle sound.' Thus are we addressed by the entrance of the Son 
of God into the world. How might he have appeared when he 
met a finite race ? — There rests concealed behind all the excellence 
of nature, there rests concealed behind every spectacle in history, 
there is ruling concealed in the depth of the earth, there is ruling 
concealed in the immensity of the starry world, the eternal spirit, 
which we call God ! There are hours, when thou dost imagine 
thyself to come near him ; — oh, there are wonderful hours in the 
life of man, when it is as if the great mystery of all existence would 
at once burst asunder its bar, and come forth, unveiled ! Our in- 
most soul is agitated at such an hour. But how is it when the bar 
is actually burst asunder ; when he who dwells in unapproachable 
light, where no man can draw near, — when the infinite Spirit, who 
sustains heaven and earth, assumes a visible form, and appears 
among his finite creatures r Who does not now expect, what is 
written of the day of his second coming, that his heavens, which are 
his throne, will tremble : that this small earth, his footstool, will 
shake ; that a foreboding sentiment, such as we have elsewhere dis- 
covered at the occurrence of great natural phenomena, will seize all 
tribes of the earth, and cause some to rejoice, and others to weep ! — 
1 See Note £, at the close of the Sermons. 



GENTLENESS OF CHRIST. 129 

' Soon after the affliction of that period,' it is written, ' the sun and 
the moon shall lose their brightness, and the stars shall fall from 
heaven, and the powers of heaven shall be shaken ; and then shall 
appear the sign of the Son of man in heaven, and then shall all the 
tribes of the earth wail ; and they shall see the Son of man coming 
in the clouds of heaven, with great power and glory.' Yet behold, 
as nature is everywhere still when she creates, and loud only when 
she destroys, so is she still, indescribably still, when the greatest of 
all who are born of women comes into the world. The sun did not 
stand motionless in the heavens, when he came ; it was night. He 
did not make his first appearance in the capital citv ; but in one of 
the smallest places of the land. No sleeper waked up at his coming ; 
but only they who watched through the night had intelligence of his 
advent. The earth that night did not shake ; the heaven that night 
did not tremble. Only a few childlike souls, who then kept vigil at 
his birth, trembled ; yet their trembling was a trembling for joy. 
" The eternal H g ht enters " ^ys the poet, « and gives the world a new 
splendor; it shines clearly at midnight, and makes us children of the 
light. He whom the whole circumference of the world could not 
embrace, lies in the womb of Mary. He, who alone sustains the 
universe, has become a little infant." 

How might Jesus have appeared when he met a sinful world ? 
He will, at his second coming, appear to it as its Judge ; and at his 
first coming, even then, it might have been said, in the words of the 
poet,-- Trembling at the foundations of the earth, willj proclaim 
the approach of the Judge, and he will search into the hearts of 
men." Even at that advent, might an anxious foreboding have 
seized the whole world of sinners ; even then might they have cried 
as they wilt one day cry,-' Ye mountains, cover us ; ye hills, fall on 
us. Yet the Lord was not in the tempest, but in the gentle soft 
sound; and the heavenly hosts sung at his birth,-Peace on earth 
and good will to men. As the poet says,-" The Son of the Father 
who has the same nature with God, became a guest in our world; 
he raised us up from the valley of our lamentation, and gave us an 
inheritance in his palace." 

Beloved of God, with what feelings must we keep this natal feast, 
when we reflect how the Redeemer might have-appeared, and how 
he <hd appear; and moreover, when we reflect on" the other side, 
how he wdl appear at a fntnre period. For, says the apostle,- 



130 



SERMONS 07 PROF. THOLL'CK. 



' He hath taken and will retain possession of heaven, until the time 
when all these things shall be accomplished, which God hath fore- 
told by the mouth of all his holy prophets.' 1 He who came the 
first time to save sinners, will come the second time to judge them ; 
he who came the first time to bear our sins, will come the second 
time to condemn them. Now we are enjoying the day of comfort, 
when the Lord does not appear in the tempest but in the soft gentle 
sound ; oh then let our hearts be touched by this soft gentle sound ! 
Let us kneel down at the manger, let us worship with the pious 
shepherds, let us strow myrrh with the kings from the East. 

2. The Lord is not in the tempest, but in the soft still sound ; — 
this has been verified in the progress of Christ through the world. 
1 He had,' as the apostle tells us, 6 not thought it robbery to be equal 
with God, he had deprived himself of his rightful dignity, and ta- 
ken the form of a servant, and he became even like another man, 
and was found in appearance as a man.' 2 But even among men 
there are gods : that is, there are such as, on account of the dignity 
and elevation of their rank in relation to other men, are called gods 
of the earth. Yet it was submitted to his choice, whether he would 
reign in a palace, or in a hut ; whether the proclamation, — ' come 
unto me, ye who are miserable and heavy laden,' should be sounded 
from a throne or from the highways and hedges ; — whether nothing 
but the brightness of a celestial world, that had been kept concealed, 
should come to the eyes of mortals, or at the same time the bright- 
ness of an earthly dignity should blind them. But lo ! the Lord is 
in the gentle soft sound. The house of a carpenter in Nazareth is 
not too low for the king of heaven, that he should abide therein ; the 
woollen garment, woven throughout, is not too strait for the Lord of 
glory that he should wrap himself in it as he travelled through this 
vale of earth. The King of all kings chooses the office of a servant, 
among servants, his subjects ; — in this way did he go forth to meet 
his finite brethren. 

Yet even in this humble disguise, how different might have been 
his mode of confronting a sinful world, from what it was. Though 
no star glistened on his breast, and no crown upon his head, yet he 
carries even in his humiliation thunder and lightning on his tongue, 
thunder and lightning in his hands. What had been the result, if every 
word from the lips of the holy man had been an imprecation against 

1 Ac:ts3:<21. 3 Ph^. 2: 6 r 7. 



GENTLENESS OF CHRIST. 



131 



sin, and every speech a proclamation of justice against the transgres- 
sor ? The Lord, the God of Israel says to Jeremiah, the prophet, — 
4 Take this cup, full of wrath, from my hand, and pour out of the same 
upon all the people to whom I send you.' How had it been if the 
Son himself had appeared, with the cup full of wrath in his hand, 
and with his voice of authority, to execute justice upon a fallen 
world ? But the Lord is not in the tempest ; he is in the soft gentle 
sound. 'Comfort ye, comfort ye my people ; speak ye kindly to 
Jerusalem ; proclaim to her that her warfare is accomplished, and 
her sin is forgiven,'— this was the text of his prophetical discourse. 
When he comes, for the first time, into the synagogue of Nazareth, 
he turns to the saying of the prophet,—' The Spirit of the Lord is 
upon me, because he hath anointed me, and sent me to preach the 
Gospel to the poor, to heal bruised hearts, to proclaim to the captives 
that they may be at liberty, to the blind that they may receive sight, 
and to the bruised that they may be free and unshackled ;— to preach 
the acceptable year of the Lord. And as all eyes in the synagogue 
were fastened upon him, he began to say unto them,— This day is 
this Scripture fulfilled in your ears.' 4 Wisdom is justified of her 
children, and becomes the companion of publicans and sinners.' 1 — 
He does indeed bear in his hand a cup of wine ;— but it is not the 
wine of the wrath of God ; it is the wine with which the Samaritan 
washes the wounds of the bruised man ; it is the cup of wine, of 
which he says,—' Drink ye all of it ; it is my blood of the New 
Testament, which was shed for many, for the remission of sins.' 
For the prophets of the Old Testament there is no higher praise, 
than that they moved about in ' the spirit and the power of E lias,' as 
it is also written of John the Baptist ; that they opened their mouth, 
and restrained not their voice, and proclaimed aloud,—' The axe is 
laid at the root of the tree.' But of this prophet of the New Dis- 
pensation it is written, in delightful words, what is written of none 
besides,— 4 He shall not strive nor cry, and his voice shall not be 
heard in the street ; a bruised reed shall he not break, and the 
glowing wick shall he not quench.' Thus does Isaiah prophesy 
concerning him ; and do you know a more delightful and appropriate 
coloring, with which to picture him forth ? Ye glowing wicks, 
ye shall not be extinguished altogether ; thou bruised reed, thou 
shalt not be completely broken ; for not in the tempest doth the 
Lord move among us, but as a soft gentle sound. 



1 Luke 4: 18—21. 7: 35. 



132 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLTICK. 



We have only spoken of the thunder and the lightning, which 
might have come forth from the Messiah's preaching ; but he also 
had the same power over the thunder and the lightning in his 
miraculous interpositions. He who can lay his hand on the blind, 
and they see, can also nod, and those who see shall be made blind. 
He who can say to the leper, ' be clean,' can cover the clean with 
a leprosy. He who can say to the dead, ' stand up,' can place the 
living in the slumber of death by his hare will. The storm which is 
stilled in obedience to his nod, must also obey him when he calls it 
up from the abyss, to destroy his adversaries. You owe it to this 
aspect of the works and conduct of Christ, that when his miraculous 
power is spoken of, you think merely of a miraculous power which 
blesses. There is, however, a miraculous power of which the 
Scripture speaks, which instead of blessing, punishes. It is in the 
Old Testament that we discover, preeminently, a manifestation of 
this power. There is an insiance of it in the speech of Moses against 
Koran's company. 4 When he had uttered these words,' it is said, 
4 the earth beneath them was rent asunder, and it opened its mouth, 
and swallowed them up ; and they went down alive into the pit, 
they and every thing which they possessed ; and — the earth cover- 
ed them up.' In the same way also does Peter, in the New Testa- 
ment, say to Ananias, — ' Thou hast not lied unto men, but unto 
God ; and when Ananias heard these words, he fell down and gave 
up the ghost ; and great fear came upon all who heard this.' Lo, 
in this manner might our Saviour have gone through the world, with 
his hand uplifted, conjuring the storm from the abyss or the thunder 
from heaven against every transgressor, an avenger of every crime. 
Yet the Son of man, it is said, did not come to judge the world, but 
to save it. The Lord is not in the storm and tempest, but in the 
soft gentle sound. All his miracles, his miracles of deliverance and 
of kindness are designed to teach us the spiritual significancy of his 
appearance on the earth. Yea with perfect faithfulness does the 
evangelist, when he describes a healing of the sick by Jesus, apply 
to him the words of the prophet, — ' He bore our sickness.' For 
was it not an endurance of our sickness ; did he not in truth take it 
and bear it in his feeling heart, when he lived from morning until 
evening surrounded with the infirm and the miserable, whom he 
relieved ? 

3. As was his entrance into the world, so was his departure 



GENTLENESS OF CHRIST. 133 

from it. The same instruction, that was proclaimed by his advent, 
and by his life, was also proclaimed by his ascension.— How might 
he have departed ? If the Lord of glory whom they had nailed" to 
the cross, but who could not be held by death, had, when risen from 
the grave and glorified by heaven, gone to the place of his agonies, 
to the mount of Olives, and there waved his banner of victory be- 
fore all the world ; he had only to give one nod, and the city which 
had cried out against him,—' Away with Jesus, release unto us 
Barabbas,' would have sunk into the deep, like Sodom and Go- 
morrah ; and the people who had cried,—' His blood come upon 
us and upon our children,' must have shrieked out,-' Ye mountains, 
cover us, and ye hills fall upon us.' Yet here also the Lord was 
not in the storm and the tempest, but in the soft sound. Early in 
the morning did he once more assemble his own in Jerusalem ; 
darkness still brooded over the streets of the city ; he then walked, 
in the stillness of the morning twilight, with the eleven to the moun- 
tain, which had witnessed his bloody sweat on the night of his sor- 
rows. The earliest rays of the opening day shone through the clouds ; 
and then, says the history, he lifted up bis hands, and blessed his 
chosen ones, and a cloud took him up from the earth. Amid the 
shades of night he came ; in the redness of the morning dawn he 
went away ; ever, ever shalt thou stand before our souls, thou 
glorified Saviour, in the same attitude in which thou didst leave the 
world, with thy hands extended over thy chosen to bless them ! 
Yea, the Lord is not in the tempest, but in the soft, mild sound ! 

Oh beloved, who of you is so unsusceptible, that such love cannot 
allure him. As long as it is called to-day, thy God cometh in a 
gentle sound. Receive him. Surrender to him thy heart. He will 
at a future time come in the storm, and the heaven and the earth 
shall flee away. Then will he not smite thee, but judge thee. Oh, 
to-day, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts.* 
1 See Note F, at the close of the Sermo^sT 



134 SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



SERMON III. 1 

CAUSES OF THE PRACTICAL INEFFICIENCY OF OUR RESOLUTIONS 
TO DO GOOD. 

A new academical half-year is a new section of life ; and the 
man who is conscious of an object in living, begins every distinct 
period of his life with new resolutions. The boy enters upon the 
period of youth with new resolves ; every new year and the new 
day begins with new resolves; and with new resolves do you, 
academic youth, commence the new half-year. But at every such 
fresh resolution a thought arises, which breaks the wing of him who 
was just ready to soar, and by destroying his confidence robs him of 
his strength ; — it is the thought of the many resolutions we have 
made already, which have been like water poured out ; the thought 
of our innumerable purposes and deeds, which have been attended 
with no success. We stand upon a hill-top ; the path of life lies 
behind us, resolutions at every one of its stopping places ;— resolu- 
tions, but no results. And where this is the fact, are we able to 
look with confidence into the future ? What wonder, if, when the 
eye glances back upon the last period of life, and idly rests upon the 
hope, that as the land behind us has been one of resolutions only, 
so that before us will be one of results,— what wonder, I say, if even 
the doubt should then thrust itself upon the mind,—' Who knows, 
but in the land before us also — ! ' Has a resolution never been 
brought to successful issue on the earth ? Who then will give se- 
curity, that it shall be successful hereafter. — And who can stand 
with a wing so broken, without being an object of commiseration ? 
And would Christianity deserve the name of a power , if it could 
carry men on no further than this ? Never, never! Either Chris- 
tianity is no power from God, or we, who have not firmness to ex- 
ecute the purpose of doing everything demanded by the divine will, 
are no Christians ; we belong not to the same company of disciples 
with him, who though he was clothed like ourselves with flesh and 
blood, yet cried out, ' I can do all things through him who strengthen- 
ed! me.' 

" For an Analysis of this Sermon, see Note G,at the close of the Sermons. 



FRUITLESS RESOLUTIONS. 



135 



It is this solemn consideration which leads us to the query, why 
our resolutions so frequently remain without results ? We learn the 
answer to this query in Psalm 119: 67, where the Psalmist makes 
this confession, "Before I was humbled, I went astray; but now I 
keep thy word." 1 We are unable to determine, whether or not 
those words of the Psalmist came from that deeply fallen and deeply 
humbled monarch, who has pictured before us, in so elevating a 
manner, the pains of sin as being the triumph of grace. It may be 
admitted, that they are not the words of David, yet they express, as 
many passages which actually do belong to him, the royal Psalmist's 
experience of life. In the innocence of piety, he had once sung his 
songs by the herds of his father ; he had sung in childlike confi- 
dence ; ' The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.' But the au- 
thority and splendor of the throne had dazzled his eyes ; in this 
point and that he had become lifted up in pride ; and his ability to 
gratify himself in all things had prepared the way for the deepest 
fall ; even for the sin with the wife of Uriah ; for a fall so deep, 
that if we look at the outward act, perhaps there is no one of us who 
would not be better than he. Severe accusations are often raised 
among us against the royal sinner on account of this fall. How 
could we put a light estimate upon this guilt which he had con- 
tracted, when he himself regarded it as so heinous, that he cried out; 
— ' While I chose to conceal my sin, my bones wasted away, by 
means of my daily groaning ; for day and night was thy hand upon 
me heavily, so that my moisture was consumed, as in a summer's 
drought.' 2 If now he condemned himself, we for the same reason 
cannot acquit him. There are two things, however, which we must 
not forget. Should we forget the strong temptation, which the un- 
limited power of an eastern monarch brought with it? and should 
we further forget the pains of the repentance, which produced so 
much subsequent fruit ?— He, the absolute monarch, hid his head in 
shame, when Nathan the prophet said to him, to his face, thou art 
the man ! and he lay in the dust before God, even till he obtained 
forgiveness again, and was able to cry ;— ' Happy is he whose trans- 
gressions are pardoned, whose sin is blotted out ;— now I keep thy 
word.' The man, who can say this in the presence of God, and 
with a consciousness of all those affections within him which are 
oppos ed to God , must be a man in whom every resolution has its 
1 See Note H, at the close of the Sermons. » Ps. 32: 3 4. 



136 



SERMONS OF PBOF. THOLUCK. 



yea and amen. The question, therefore, why our resolutions have 
so frequently no results, is at length answered for us in these words, 
— because our sins do not humble us in the right way ; or, more 
particularly, because ice do not humble ourselves ; do not humble 
ourselves before God, do not humble ourselves in faith. 

I say, in the first place, our resolutions are so frequently unpro- 
ductive of results, because we do not humble ourselves for our faults. 

The desire of pleasure is deeply implanted in human nature. 
How completely bound, as it were with cords, does a man feel, when 
he is not permitted to enjoy himself. The youth above all others 
has this feeling, when all his senses are in vigorous play, and life 
opens before him with its hundred avenues. This love of pleasure 
when considered in its elements, is not to be entirely condemned. 
Our God is called the blessed King of all kings -, 1 and shall not this 
most blessed of all, who communicates from himself all other good 
to his subjects, communicate also his happiness to them ? But hu- 
mility for our faults and sins causes pain. It does cause pain, pain 
indeed, when the severe, holy eye of conscience opens itself wide 
upon us, and darts its rays of rebuke like consuming lightning upon 
our conduct, and wakes up the spirit of self-impeachment and shame, 
and penitence, and self-condemnation. Christian humility for our sins 
causes not merely a simple, but a variously compounded pain. 
And it is through fear of this, that men generally recoil from begin- 
ning an earnest christian life. Through fear of this, they remain in 
such a state, that the best resolutions are attended with no good 
consequences. If the man is no longer sensual, yet he has no heart 
to be spiritual ; for his life perpetually oscillates between heaven and 
earth, between yea and nay. There is no belter description of this 
state, than in these words of the apostle : — ' We know that the law is 
spiritual, but I am carnal, sold under sin. For I know not what I 
do ; for what I would, I do not ; but what I hate, that I do.' This is 
that human heart, of which it is said by the poet : — " The heart of 
man is an apple, driven over the level heath by a storm and 
again, l< The heart of man is like water, rising and sinking in a 
boiling cauldron. 1 ' Truly, the disgust, the impotence, the loathing 
which such a divided, distracted life brings with it, is much more in- 
t lerable than the pain of humiliation and penitence. Be men, 
therefore ; ye who are tossed hither and thither between heaven 



1 1 Tim. 6: 15. 



FRUITLESS RESOLUTIONS. 



137 



and earth, collect your strength, and make choice of that death, 
through which you must pass on your way to life. For it is no 
otherwise than has been said by the poet ; — " We have a twofold 
nature ; yet the same law is observed in one as in the other ; the 
path to real joy winds only through death and sorrow. 1 ' As in the 
present condition of human nature, it is the law of true life that it shall 
lead through death ; the same is likewise the law of moral freedom, 
which is itself the truest life 3 — it also leads through death, through 
self-mortification. Natural life then and natural desire must die ; 
not so as to be annihilated altogether, but only so as to be extricated 
from what opposes the spiritual ; for even in this natural desire and 
this natural life, as you see it before you, there is concealed a germ 
of true life. This is most plainly expressed in the words of our 
Lord, ' Whoever seeketh to preserve his life, shall lose it, and 
whoever will lose his life, shall save it.' Mark this expression, my 
brethren, we shall obtain the life of our souls, our natural life, if we 
will subject it to the death of penitence and humiliation. Then will 
it strip off its outward covering and rise from the dead, spiritually 
and in truth. Brethren, in the hours of self-impeachment and self- 
condemnation, when our natural desires and pleasures are surrender- 
ed up to death, then the death of our souls does not take place, not by 
any means ; then rather we obtain for them a new life. Why do 
you so dread the pain of humbling yourselves, when according 
to the words of the Saviour, you shall obtain thereby true life to 
your spirits ! 

We have thus far made our appeal to the man who stands with- 
out, to him who does not live spiritually ; but we also make the same 
appeal to those who are permitted to say, that the life in God and 
with God has commenced in them. For who is there among us, that 
has never been called to mourn over resolutions fruitless in good, 
purposes leading to no fulfilment ? Can we without a falsehood 
say with Paul, — ' I can do all things through Christ that strengtheneth 
me V And yet this cheerful, victorious courage is an essential 
characteristic of christian faith ! But does any one of you imagine, 
that only such ardent men as Paul, could speak thus triumphantly? 
Hear then how John exclaims in the same cheerful confidence, — 
' Our faith is the victory which hath overcome the world, for he who 
is in us, is stronger than he who is in the world.' How many of us, I 
ask once more, can utter such an expression without an inward 
18 



138 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



falsehood ? What then is the reason why even in oar life, resolu- 
tions have no good effect, purposes are not fulfilled ? Because we 
want the right kind of humility. We have indeed humbled our- 
selves ; we are no longer like the world who live without conviction 
of sin ; we have, in the general, a consciousness of human guilt and 
sinfulness ; but we do not discern and rebuke our sins in their 
individual occurrence, we do not humble ourselves for them every 
day and every hour. Are there not multitudes even among the 
better inclined, upon whom, in many parts of their character, we see 
some old habit and vice, making unresisted but injurious advances ; 
even the very vice which is most thoroughly melted into their na- 
tures, and which should therefore be most earnestly opposed ? We 
always acknowledge in the general, ' yes, we are sinners,' and even 
more particularly, ' I am a sinner but on what points I am daily a 
sinner, on what side my daily inclination and conduct is dark with 
wickedness, we do not inquire. Brethren, where this is the case, 
the new life in Christ can be no source of triumphant power to our 
resolutions. Why not ? Because in our inmost soul there is a 
want of truth, and where truth is wanting, there power also is want- 
ing. We are altogether deceitful, so long as our self-accusation and 
self-rebuke are confined merely to sinfulness in the general, and do 
not affect the boughs and branches of actual sin which shoot out in 
the life. There are some Christians, upon whom the enjoyment of 
sense seems to have at present exactly the same claims which it had 
in their unconverted life. There are Christians, who yield to im- 
patience, to anger, to slothfulness, exactly as if they were the 
children of the world ; and — would you be true Christians ? Would 
you be disciples of him who has said of hypocrites, — ' by their fruits 
ye shall know them ?' My friends, even such a certainty of overcom- 
ing the world as Paul and John had, does not exclude daily humilia- 
tion. You know that Paul says, — ' I mortify my body, and subdue it, 
so that I may not preach the Gospel to others and be myself cast 
away ;' that he confesses, — ' Not that I have already attained ; one 
thing I say, I forget what is behind, and strive for that which is be- 
fore, and run toward the mark set before me.' You understand 
also what the Lord means when he says, — ' Whoever will follow 
me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.' 1 



1 Luke S: 23. 



FRUITLESS RESOLUTIONS. 



139 



He speaks here of daily denying one's self, of daily bearing one's 
cross. Must it not necessarily belong to the christian life, to sit 
daily in judgment upon one's own soul, to humble one's self daily 
for everything which is so displeasing to Jehovah ? 

But such humiliation as we here describe is, in the second place, a 
humiliation before God. We must, I say, humble ourselves before 
God ; that is, our grief for sin must be in view of the fact, that we 
have grieved our Maker, and this our grief must be expressed in a 
confession before Him. A certain kind of grief for sins and vices 
is indeed experienced by all, but it is difficult to believe in how 
many cases this is simply and solely a humiliation and grief for the 
sake of men, for the sake of the injury and the shame which we have 
prepared for ourselves in the sight of others. Yea so incessantly do 
we glance our eyes toward men, that we may say it would be a 
very great advance in piety, if one should attain such a state as to 
grieve over each of his iniquities, simply because it had offended his 
God and Lord. Even from early childhood, we are instructed in 
these modern times, to fix our eyes, in committing iniquitv, only 
upon the opinions of our fellow mortals. It is no longer said, as 
formerly, to the child, ' do not that thing, the beloved Lord sees it ;' 
it is now said, ' be well behaved : what will the people say !' And 
so, therefore, we grow up ; our glance directed always to men 
alone, and if we are ever ashamed of our vices, it is on account of 
the eye of man, and not on account of that eye, which seeth the 
hidden recess of the heart. Oh that you might again understand, 
what is the high and holy meaning of the word — religion ! What 
meaning has it other than — regard for God ! It is such a disposition 
of the inner man, as leads him to look through all things, through 
nature, through art, through his goods, through his palaces, through 
his tears of joy, and through his tears of sorrow, through all — to 
God. But if there must be religion, a regard to God, even in our 
sorrow for sin, how should it be exercised ? Our sorrow must arise 
from this, that, our iniquities have grieved our Maker. What says 
David, when he had committed a grievous crime against his fellow 
men I 1 Lord, against thee only have I sinned,' he cries. Not that 
he wished to hide from himself the truth that he had committed a 
sad offence against his brother ; but the fact that he had, in sinning 
against his brother, sinned also against the commandment of his 
Creator, this is the sting which most deeply pierces his conscience ; 



140 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



this it is which makes his pain so heart-rending. And what says 
Paul, when he was accused of having conducted himself improperly 
in his office ? 1 It is a small thing that I am judged by a human 
tribunal. It is the Lord who judgeth me.' Our humility for our 
sins must of necessity have this character, in order that strength 
of resolution may go forth from it. If it be not of this kind, it is 
not of the spiritual kind. You have surprised yourself in inconti- 
nence, in vanity, in anger ; you are ashamed before others : yea 
you are ashamed before your own conscience. Beloved brother, so 
long as you are not ashamed, that you have sinned against your 
Father in heaven, your sorrow is not a spiritual sorrow, You have 
trespassed against your fellow man, you have perhaps made his 
wife and child unhappy, you have even plunged him into the grave. 
You beat upon your breast,—' Woe is me I have made a family 
miserable !' Man, thy pain is great and deserved ; but it is not wholly- 
spiritual ; there yet cleaves to it such compassion as flows from mere 
natural sensibility. ' Against thee only have I sinned and done evil,' 
cries David to the Lord.' 1 And again, 1 Lord, be merciful to me and 
heal my soul ; for against thee have I sinned V' 2 This, and only 
this, is the pain which gives to our humility the character of true 
spiritual penitence. 

And the grief for our sins before God should be poured out in a 
confession before him. This bare thought, flitting through the mind 
amid the bustle of life, 'I have again been led astray, and grieved my 
Lord and God, 1 — it is too transitory a thought, to be able to impart 
strength of resolve. We must step before the eye of Him who 
seeth in secret ; and as our pain for transgression gains spirituality by 
means of our sorrow before Jehovah, so does it gain depth by our 
confession before him.— Why, why, my friends, has our Lord laid 
so great stress upon praying in the retired closet, and under the eye 
of him who seeth in secret ? This is the reason ; man does not, as 
a matter of fact, come near to God, while he thinks of him only 
transitorily, amid the intercourse of life. In solitude do we first 
dwell with ourselves ; in solitude does God first dwell with us. The 
eye, when it suddenly comes from darkness into the light, requires 
some time to accustom itself to the brightness ; so the heart of man 
requires some time, before it can so adjust its powers as to receive 
into itself the full radiance of the Divinity. When, in the closet, you 

' ~~«~Ps.51:6. ; Ps. 41:4. 



FRUITLESS RESOLUTIONS. 



141 



first spread out all the faults of your heart before God, then for the 
first time does the sun of divine grace penetrate, with its mild rays, 
deeper and still deeper into your soul. Your humility for sin be- 
came spiritual, when you grieved before the eye, which seeth in 
secret ; it becomes deep, when you express your grief before the 
same all-seeing Judge. Brethren, if the confession of our guilt 
before a man whom we have injured is pleasant, and gives 
great aid in self-reformation, how much more must this be the case 
with the confession of our guilt before God, our heavenly Father! 

Thirdly. There is, indeed, a divine strength imparted to purposes of 
amendment by such confession ; there is a divinely sanctifying power 
in it ; but the fullness of power belongs only to that kind of humility 
before God, which is accompanied with faith. By faith is meant 
confidence in the divine word. Nothing but this faith makes our 
self-abasement genuine ; nothing but this makes it cheerful. Jt 
makes, I say, our self-abasement genuine ; for, my friends, how 
completely is every deed of ours enveloped in darkness, so long as 
we have not before us the pole-star of the divine word. Even pain 
for sin is thus enveloped ; and history shows to us many a false kind 
of humility, which better deserves the name of self-torment. When- 
ever the word of God sheds not the true light into the soul, there a 
man grieves indeed, but to no purpose ; and at another time the 
heart remains quietly at rest, when it ought to tremble. Thus, es- 
pecially with many ingenuous spirits it is the greatest grief, when 
they come before God, that they cannot always be cheerful and 
serene. The tide of emotion alternates, ebbing and flowing. It is 
seen in the diaries of pious men, that with many the severest trouble 
of life arises from the so frequent alternation of cheerfulness with 
despondency. Their self-accusations for this fault have absolutely 
no end. But how entirely different would it be with us, if in our 
humiliation the word of God were our leading-star. For where in- 
deed has Paul or John, or the Lord himself made a happy state of 
feeling the first condition of a holy life ? They have demanded 
faith and love ; and this joy in the Lord, which the apostle also- 
everywhere demands, — it will follow of itself when faith and love 
have gone before. 

This faith in the word of God gives a cheerfulness to our peni- 
tence and humility, and thus gives strength to the resolutions ; for it 
makes us certain of forgiveness of sin and the aid of the Holy Spirit. 



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SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



Depression of mind in itself can give us no power. A sorrowful 
disposition indeed always tends to dissolve the bands of our power. 
Hence men are afraid of it 5 as they know that a moral life is in- 
vested with strength. And this strength, beloved friends, you will 
certainly obtain, unless you have that kind of depression which is 
unattended with faith. — Hear ye not what our Psalmist says, — ' but 
now I keep thy word V That the feeling of depression robbed him 
of his power, — oh this was but too well known to the singer of Israel. 
Or have ye not heard his numberless complaints, as when he cried 
out, — ' My heart trembles, my strength hath forsaken me, the light of 
my eyes hath fled.'' But what does he say on the other side ? 
— ' Keep me by thy word, that I may live.' Beloved, the cup 
of humiliation is bitter, but the word of God therein makes it 
sweet; the cup of humiliation enervates, but the word of God 
therein neutralizes its weakening influence. This word of God 
is the word of forgiveness : it is the promise of the aid of that 
Spirit, in whose power even the imbecile can say, ' I am strong f 
the word which makes all self-abasement and penitence a cheer- 
ful exercise. This word of God has already been proclaimed 
under the old dispensation. Already has David been able to sing 
in his strength, — ' Happy is he whose iniquities are forgiven, whose 
sin is covered ; happy is the man to whom the Lord imputeth not 
iniquity and again, — ' Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not 
what benefits he has conferred upon thee ; he forgiveth all thy sins 
and healeth all thine infirmities.' This is that word of God, which, 
since ' the word of reconciliation hath been established among us', 
sounds forth continually from the sacred temple, giving consolation 
to all who approach God with humility and in faith. And in- 
deed it is of no avail for a man, barely once for all to shut 
himself up to this command of God ; he should abase himself 
for every particular transgression; his humility beginning with 
the tears of repentance, and ending with the tears of gratitude. 
Never is the Christian permitted, after truly humbling himself before 
God, to go away from the divine presence, without being assured of 
the forgiveness of even this his particular transgression ; without 
cheerfulnes in his humility. Only the reconciled heart is a strong 
one. 

Come then, all ye, in whose eye the tear hath started at the 
recollection of good purposes without good deeds ; and good resolu- 



EARNEST OF ETERNAL LIFE. 



143 



lions without results, come, learn the power which lies in christian 
self-abasement ; an abasement before the eye of God and in the 
exercise of faith. 



SERMON IV. > 



TESTIMONY OF OUR ADOPTION BY GOD, THE SUREST PLEDGE OF 
ETERNAL LIFE. 

We have to day a solemn memento of death ; we keep the feast 
in commemoration of the dead. We have this memento at the time 
when nature also proclaims the same truth to us. 2 The heavens are 
invested in their gray attire ; the fragrance and the music of living 
nature have died away ; the whole creation has put on its funeral 
robe, and in this solemn vestment preaches to thee,— as it were the 
word of God,— Man, thou must die !— Ah, you sav I go only for a 
little while into a silent chamber, and when the 'lovely spring re- 
turns, I shall bloom out again. Child of the dust, what reason hast 
thou for this thy faith ? I know what you will adduce as a reason ; 
it is the emblems which nature exhibits in the butterfly, and in the 
swelling germ that rises up in sight from under a mantle of snow.— 
Have you ever stood by the death-bed of one you loved, when his 
altered countenance could scarcely be recognized, when the dim 
eye gleamed forth but faintly from its deep socket ; when the ema- 
ciated hand was convulsively clenched, and there was heard the 
rattling at the breast ; and had^ you then no other reason for your 
hope of immortality than was afforded by these symbols in nature ? 
—Oh then, what did such a reason avail you! Your hope faded 
away with the declining pulse of your dying friend ! And when 
you yourself shall lie on your dying bed, with the drops of death- 
sweat on your brow, and friends around you, waiting for your last 
breath, you will need some stronger reason for your hope than you 
can draw from the emblems of nature. 

1 For an Analysis of this Sermon, see Notel^Tthe close of thTsermo^sT 
See Note K, at the close of the Sermons. 



144 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



Bat I see your finger pointing to another place ;— behold the 
Prince of life in the tomb at Golgotha; how he rises from the 
grave, how the burial garments fall from him, and himself ascends 
to his Father amid the glories of Heaven.— But what shall we say, 
when even in this assembly may be found men, who believe that he 
whom we adore as the Prince of life, did not rise up victoiiously 
from death, but only from an oppressive swoon ! Such men have 
arisen in the christian church,— and yet even a disciple of charity 
may say, ' they are not of us.'— From these men, however, I turn 
my attention to you, who have not ventured to doubt the truth of 
what is said in our apostle's creed, ' on the third day he rose from 
the dead ;'— you do not doubt this, but do you believe it also ? Is 
this resurrection from the dead so certain to your minds, that you 
could lay down your life for it ? 

Christian brethren, no one believes, with a truly living faith, in 
the resurrection of Christ from the dead, save one who has been 
raised with Christ to a new life. No one believes, that, as Inspira- 
tion says, the Father has in truth caused his holy Jesus to burst the 
bands of death, save one who himself has become a child of God. 
Wherefore let us reflect on this sentiment ; " The testimony that we 
are the children of God is the surest pledge of eternal life." To 
this reflection are we led by the words of the apostle which we find 
recorded in the epistle to the Romans, Chap. viii. verses 15—17. 
" Ye have not received the spirit of a servant, that ye should live 
again in fear ; but ye have received the spirit of a child, whereby 
we cry, Abba, dear Father! This same spirit giveth testimony to 
our spirits, that we are the children of God. If we are children, 
then are we heirs ; heirs of God, and co-heirs with Christ." 

In reference to this expression let us consider, first, how the 
testimony is given that we are the children of God ; secondly, why 
this testimony is a pledge of eternal life.— May the Spirit of God be 
our Teacher ! 

First, how is the testimony given, that we have been adopted as 
the children of God ? The apostle places in contrast with each 
other the spirit of a servant, and the spirit of a child ; the former 
trembles the latter prays.— Let us consider more closely the spirit, 
that trembles. Israel once received its law under the sound of 
thunder, amid darkness and tempest. These appearances in nature 
were necessary to give a people who were slaves to sense, a proper 



EARNEST OF ETERNAL LIFE. 



145 



view of the dignity of the law. So fearful was the impression of 
the scene, that the man who immediately received the law, stood 
and cried out, ' I tremble and am terrified.' And after the tribes of 
Israel had taken possession of the land which the Lord had promised, 
they stood, with mount Gerizim at the right, and mount Ebal at the 
left, and the curse was sounded forth against every transgressor of 
the law of God ; — ' Cursed be he who does not fulfil all the words 
of this law, to conduct himself according to them ; — and all the 
people said, Amen.'— And the child of man, who now surveys the 
faults which he has committed from the first to the present period 
of his life, his open and his secret sins against this holy law ; should 
he not tremble ? Whoever you are, man, you have a Sinai from 
which you have received the law of God ; and you must bow down 
before the law with agitating fear. In your own heart is established 
a holy legislation ; and is it not true that you can mention the hour ? 
when with a loud sound of the trumpet, and amid tempests and dark- 
ness the law raised its voice within you, so that you could not help 
falling on your knees and trembling ? And would you suppress 
the voice, which coming from flaming Sinai sounds aloud within 
your spirit ? Even if you would, the same law stands recorded in 
the book of God ; and it has been given to men from without, as 
well as from within, so that the external voice, which man cannot 
drown, may call forth the voice which belongs to the depth of his 
own soul. 

And how is it with you ? Have you experienced this trembling 
of the spirit ? How large the number of those, who know nothing 
of it, and simply because they have been strangers to this fear, 
imagine that they have received that blessed spirit of adoption, of 
which the apostle speaks in our text ! Let me above all things warn 
you against this error. — Beloved, not the man who is a stranger to 
the feeling of dread at the sacred voice of Jehovah, not the man who 
has felt neither terror nor shame before the Holy One of Israel, not 
the man who never trembles, but the man who prays, is the child of 
God. A melancholy perversion of a wholesome truth is common in 
our day ; hearing as we do from so many the negative side of this 
truth, that the Gospel is not a religion of precept ; and hearing from 
so few the other important side of it, the Gospel is a religion of 
prayer. You who know not what the trembling of the servant is, 
if you also know not what the praying of a child is, then you are not 
19 



146 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLTJCK. 



a child, you are not even a servant; you are a faithless, truant 
slave, — a rebel. 

Prayer then is the testimony that we have been adopted as chil- 
dren of God : not every kind of prayer, however, but only that 
which comes forth from the depth of the soul, in the spirit of — Dear 
Father ! Let us more particularly consider, first, how this prayer 
arises from the depth of the soul, secondly, how it expresses itself. 

I. 4 That mystery,' as the apostle calls it, 1 ' which has been kept 
secret from the beginning of the world,' is the truth, which, wherever 
it has been preached to sorrowful and heavy-laden souls, elicits prayer. 
It is the gracious purpose of God, since his image is not restored in 
its original purity to any of our race, to look upon them who believe 
in the holy Son of his love, no longer as they are in themselves, but 
as they appear in his beloved Son, and to translate them into the 
kingdom of their Redeemer. 2 The apostle calls this purpose a 
mystery, not because he would imply that it now remains hidden 
from the souls of the faithful, but because no mere human reason 
had formed any conception of it, until, in the fulness of time, it was 
developed as a truth. And yet it remains not the less mysterious 
to you, if you have not lasted of those powers of the world to come, 
which lie involved in it. 3 The wonders of grace and love, which 
present themselves to view within the sanctuary, it is difficult to 
make intelligible to those who stand without at the door. As, when 
you bent over the dear person of a father that you loved, you even 
forgot the misconduct of your erring child ; and while your eyes 
were fastened upon the countenance of your kind father's image, 
you threw your arms around your unfaithful child and blessed him ; 
— lo, in the same way has your heavenly Father forgotten that you 
are a most recreant child. When you have thrown yourself into 
the arms of the Son of his love, and cleaved closely to his heart, 
then does the Father no more look upon you as you are in yourself, 
encompassed with all your sins, enveloped in your misery ; he then 
loves you in the Son of his love, and the darkness within you is 
irradiated by the light that beams from his countenance. 4 As you 
are in yourself,' says the heavenly vine-dresser, — ' you are a wither- 
ed, useless stalk; but lo, if you will become a branch of the vine 
which I have planted for myself, then shall the living power of that 



1 Rom. 16:25. 2 Eph. 1: 6. Col. 1 : 13. 

3 See Note L, at the close of the Sermons. 



EARNEST OF ETERNAL LIFE. 



147 



vine diffuse itself through you ; I will no more remember what you 
have been, a dry twig ; you shall bloom and grow green as a branch 
of the vine of Christ and shall bring forth much fruit.' 

You have the story of the lost son. It stands recorded, that when 
he went back to his father's house, the father saw him a great way 
off, and went forth to meet him, and stretched out his arms to re- 
ceive him. There are some who find in this narrative an argument 
against the assertion of Scripture, that sinful man is denied all access 
to God except through a Mediator. 1 But, my friends, is it not al- 
ways in the Son of his love, that the Father goes forth to meet a 
penitent transgressor ? Is it not always in the Son, that he opens 
his loving, paternal heart ? It is in Christ Jesus, that the Father 
falls upon thy neck, that he carries thee home to the feast of 
joy. Does it not stand recorded, ' God was in Christ, when he re- 
conciled the world unto himself ?' 2 As then the penitent is in Christ, 
and Christ in God, it follows that the very person who is to be re- 
conciled is in the Being who reconciles him. Great is the mystery, 
I say the mystery of the oneness of the Father with the Son. 

It is the announcement of this love, which, when it enters through 
faith the afflicted and heavy-laden heart, calls forth the instant cry 
of amazement and of gratitude, and prompts us to exclaim with 
John, — 'Behold what manner of love the Father hath shown us, 
that we should be called his own children !' 3 That love of God, 
which, while we were sinners, was exercised toward us, is shed 
abroad in our hearts ; so says the apostle. 4 And this assurance of 
having received the love, which was exercised by God toward us 
before we loved him, is the pledge of eternal life ; it is the signet, 
with which the faithful are sealed for heaven. Amazed at this 
grace which they cannot comprehend, they reiterate the exclama- 
tion which was made by John, the disciple of love, — 4 Now are we 
the children of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be !' 

2. Having shown how prayer, which is the testimony of our having 
been adopted by God, is prompted in the soul, let us next inquire 
how it is expressed. All that can be said on this subject, the apostle 
has included in this one supplicatory word, which illustrates the 
nature of the prayer ; — dear Father. — We will now, therefore, 
definitely ascertain what is the scriptural idea of a prayer. Prayer 



1 1 Tim. 2: 5. John 14: 6. 
3 1 John 3:1. 



2 2 Cor. 5: 19. 
4 Rom. 5 : 5. 



148 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



is the pulsation of the soul. It need not be always expressed in 
words ; for the apostle exhorts Christians to pray without intermission. 1 
But if the prayer must necessarily be uttered in audible language, 
how could Paul, yea how could Christ himself have prayed without 
intermission ? No, my friends. There is a prayer which the faith- 
ful offer, and which like the pulse in the veins, never ceases its 
motion, not by night, not by day, and which can be heard by no 
human ear. In this inward silent supplication are the faithful con- 
tinually exclaiming, Abba, dear Father ! How is it with you, when 
some beloved friend is called away from you by death ? Through all 
the hours that succeed his departure, do you not bear him constantly 
about with you in your heart ? Yea, are you not wont to conduct a 
silent, uninterrupted dialogue with him, which is not audible to the 
ear of a companion r So it is with the ceaseless prayer, going forth 
from the man who has received into his own heart the testimony of 
his heavenly adoption. He cannot forget, what new and unmerited 
grace has been bestowed on him ; he cries out continually, — ' See 
what love the father hath shown us, that, we should be styled the 
children of God and in the inmost sanctuary of his soul the words 
are repeated incessantly, beloved Parent ! precious Father ! 

But as the conversation which a man silently carries on with him- 
self is converted into audible language, as soon as he is seized with 
a quickening feeling of pain or of joy, so likewise is the converse 
which a man silently conducts with his heavenly parent. When 
his soul is actively excited, he feels compelled to employ words. 

And so we read of the Saviour, in the moment of his deepest pain 
he cried out, Abba, dear Father ! 2 And all that the heart of a child 
of God has to say, when it approaches the throne of grace, yea all 
is comprehended by the apostle in this one word, dear Father. — 
Dear Father ! So cries the little child, when, conscious of its own 
guilt and ill desert, it yet receives a new overflowing of its parent's 
love, and sinks down on its knees, weeping. Dear Father ! So 
cries the child, when full of trouble it folds up its hands, and 
would fain fly into its parent's bosom, and to his heart. Dear 
Father ! So cries the same child, when it has a full tide of joys, and 
cannot bear to keep these joys for itself alone, and must share all 
the treasures of its heart with the parent, whom it loves. 



1 1 Thess. 5 ; 17. 



2 Mark 14 : 36. 



EARNEST OF ETERNAL LIFE. 



149 



Is it not truly a blissful image ; — this image of an affectionate 
child of God ? Who would not sigh in his spirit, and exclaim, Oh, 
that I were such an image! But do not fancy, beloved, that it is 
nothing more than an image. Our age will not believe the Scrip- 
tures, when they describe the depth of human corruption, and the 
greatness of human misery ; but why will ye not believe them, 
when they describe the wonders of the grace of God to the poor 
sinful man, who has faith ! It is a truth ; God is able to make men 
thus blessed through the power of faith, to make them such, even 
here, if they be obedient to the word of his grace. He has made 
them thus blessed ; he will make them so again. Paul and John 
and Peter and Luther are witnesses of what he has done ; and 
whosoever of you has a longing for this spirit, — the door of the 
Lord stands open to you all the time, and his fountain of living 
water is always full. And, beloved brother, as you call to mind 
that brief hour, when your fitful vision will survey the long solitary 
path stretching onward before you, — a path along which none of 
your loved ones can conduct you, and of which you do not know 
whether or not it will lead you to a sweet home ; as you think of 
that hour, your surest pledge for the eternity before you is the evi- 
dence, that you may have, of being adopted as a child of God. 

This evidence is the surest pledge, for first, you are no longer 
flesh, you are spirit ; it is the surest pledge, for secondly, whoever 
has this evidence, has already been translated from death to life. 

1. The voice came to the prophet and said, proclaim ! He asked, 
What shall I proclaim ? And the voice said, — all flesh is grass, 
and all its goodliness as the flower of the field. My friends, the 
Scripture speaks very diminutively of man. Proud mortal, the 
name which the word of God giveth thee is, flesh. I am well aware 
how many among you never see this application of the term in the 
Scriptures without repugnance of feeling, but will you charge the 
sacred oracle with a misrepresentation ? — There is a wonderful 
power in the kingdom of nature which draws down every particle 
of matter toward one, single, mysterious, central point. There is 
the concealed operation of a rigorous power, which draws down the 
physical man irresistibly, to the central point, to his mother, to the 
earth. — But man, not only is the earth thy mother, the Father of 
spirits is also thy Father. There is another resistless power, a 
power full of mystery, pervading the kingdom of spirit. It is the 



150 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



power of love. Everything that is truly spirit, this power attracts 
to a spiritual, central point, a point of rest ; to its original, to the 
Father of spirits. And as the stone thrown into the air, does not 
attain its resting place until it reaches the ground from which it 
was taken, so nothing, which can be properly called spirit, is able to 
find repose, until it rests in the central point of the world of spirits, 
in God. 1 All ye, who are here assembled, ye future priests and 
administrators of the mystery of the Gospel, are ye— spirit ? If ye 
are, then let me ask you, do you experience this great attracting 
power of spirits ? Does it draw you without intermission to the 
central point of the spiritual world ? Can you find no rest until you 
find it in God ? If you must acknowledge that you are not spirit ; 
if the concealed attraction of earth draws down your heart along 
with your body to the dust ; then murmur no longer because the 
Bible calls you flesh ; you are flesh. 

2. Yet, mortal, however deep your degradation may be, as repre- 
sented in the Gospel, you may be raised as high as you have sunk 
low. Lift up your hearts, ye who love the Redeemer, and pray ; 
so shall ye be partakers, through Christ Jesus, of the divine nature. 
The sacred oracles assure us of this ; and the whole plan of re- 
demption as recorded in the Gospel, what is it, but a plan for the 
elevation of human nature to a likeness with God ? 2 The Spirit 
that giveth life is poured forth by the Prince of life upon flesh- 
ly natures, and Jesus Christ affirms, ' I live, and ye shall live 
also.' He has promised to his faithful ones, — ' I, and the Father 
will come unto you and make our abode with you.' — And shall the 
mortal man, shall the fragile tenement in which both the Father and 
the Son have made their abode, be given over to corruption ? Oh 
this wonderful testimony within the faithful heart ;— see, that which 
was old hath passed away ; everything hath become new, as soon as 
thou art loved in the Son of God's love ! Who, besides the Spirit 
of God, could leave such a testimony within the breast of man ? 
The same conscience which condemns thee can never acquit thee. 
It is the Spirit of the Father and of the Son, which implants the 
conviction within thee, that thou art one with them. — 'Where the 
Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom such freedom as bursts 

1 For a further illustration of the power of christian love, see Note M, at 
the close of the Sermons. 

3 See Note N, at the close of the Sermons. 



EARNEST OF ETERNAL LIFE. 15] 

the bars of death, and cries,— 6 Death, where is thy sting?' Here 
you have the key to that mysterious passage of the Kedeemer, in 
which he declares, ' The hour is coming and has come already, 
when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of man, and they who 
hear shall live.'* Yea it has come already, it is now,-the resurrec- 
tion from the dead ; for wherever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is 
the seed planted of an unending life. 

6 Your body,' says the apostle,' is indeed dead on account of sin ; 
but the spirit is life on account of righteousness. If now the Spirit of 
him who hath raised Jesus from the dead dwelleth in you, then the 
same Being who hath raised Christ from the dead, also'giveth life to 
your moral bodies, for the very reason that his Spirit dwelleth in 
you.'2 The Spirit which the Lord pours out upon his own, is the 
same by which he has overcome death ; and the same Spirit tri- 
umphs over death in us also ; and our frail tabernacles it will build 
anew, and invest them with glories like the glories of the body of 
Jesus. Wherefore, elevated as no mere mortal ever was, the Sa- 
viour stands and cries,-' Whoso believeth in me shall never die • 
he hath been translated from death to life !' Has it already been 
your experience, beloved, that you have tasted of all joys and have 
found none of which you can say, these will satisfy me forever > 
lour experience of the vanity of this world's good, has been as it 
should be. There is only one kind of joy, in which the soul is in- 
terested, and of which I never become weary. This is the joy and 
the peace which the testimony of our adoption by God brings with 
it Oh ye, who are yet afar off, believe it, there are, yea there are, 
m the life of the faithful Christian, not only minutes and hours, there 
are days and months and years, which he could wish to be prolonged 
to all eternity, and he would never be weary of them. There is a 
richness in these periods, and a fullness in them, a life and a still- 
ness an activity and a deep repose, and a steadiness, which fills the 
whole soul and which no one can adequately understand, but one 
who has felt them. And the voice of the faithful Christian bears 
audible testimony,-' We have tasted of the good word of God 
and the powers of the world to come.' In what they already enjoy 
here below, they have a foretaste of the future world. 

1 John 5: 25. See Note O, at the close of the SermonsT 

2 Rom. 8: 10, 11. 



152 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



From this you will understand why, in our text, the children of 
God are called heirs of God ; and why the Spirit, which is imparted 
to them, is called the surety of the future inheritance. The apostle 
says in the subsequent context, that they who have faith have re- 
ceived the first fruits of the Spirit. Now the first fruits of a harvest 
are followed by the full harvest. In these first fruits Christians are 
fully assured, how rich a harvest is preserved for them in heaven, 
when they shall behold in glory, what they now hope for in weak- 
ness. But so long as you remain destitute of that degree of faith, by 
which you may taste the powers of the world to come ; so long, 
Christians, as you are not made happy men by the power of your 
faith, — tell me, how can you explain the words of your Redeemer, 
when he says that ' the man, who has faith, has already pressed 
through death and has passed unto life ? n Tell me, does there not 
appear to be a sacred intimation, in these words of Jesus, that the 
idea of faith involves something more, decidedly more, than that poor 
and starveling principle, which is all that your experience compre- 
hends ? But whoever of you in this christian assembly can say, we have 
felt the powers of the world to come, since we have exercised faith ; 
we have experienced the first fruits of the Spirit, which will one day 
be followed by the whole harvest ; we have been sealed by the 
Holy Spirit of promise, and have thus received an earnest of our 
heavenly inheritance ; whoever can say this, to you heaven is secure 
beyond a doubt. Ye happy ones, to you there remaineth not a 
solitary doubt, that heaven shall be your home. When the hour 
shall arrive, that last hour, when they who love you shall surround, 
with tearful eyes, your dying bed, then, oh ye happy ones, ye shall 
need no consolation from others ; a consolation strong and clear 
shall spring up from the deeps of your own breast; your eye shall 
look upward steady and serene, and your last word shall be, — ' I 
know that my Redeemer liveth.' 

And now tell me, ye who have never received this surest pledge 
of eternal life, have you indeed no knowledge of it ? How then 
will you stand up in the last struggle ? He who knows nothing by 
experience of the grace of Christ, is represented by Luther as re- 
peating this stanza : 



1 John 5: 24. See also 1 John 3: 14. 



EARNEST OF ETERNAL LIFE. 



153 



I live, but ah ! how long, 
1 do not, cannot know ; 
1 die, but know not when, 
Nor whither I shall go : 
Why then, I ask with wonder, why- 
Do I thus live in ease and joy ? 

You on the contrary, who, through the grace of God, feel warranted 
jn saying of yourself— ' I know in whom I have believed,'— why 
will you remain downcast and fearful ? Whoever has received such 
a pledge of eternal life as you have, is entitled, says Luther, to sing, 

I live, and 1 can tell 

How long my life will last ; 

1 die, and know full well, 

When Jordan will be passed ; l 

How 1 shall die and whither go 

The Lord hath made me clearly know : 

Why then, i ask with wonder, why 

In sadness do I droop and die ? 

In harmony with these sentiments, I will close my discourse to 
day, this feast-day for the dead, with two questions. To you, who 
bear about in your breast no earnest of future bliss, and have no 
protector, standing ready to intercede for you at the judgment ; to 
you I put the query, ' Friend, how can you live in ease and joy ?' 
But to you, who have obtained pardon ; to whom God hath given 
through Christ Jesus the first fruits of his Spirit, for a pledge of 
eternal life ; to you who can say in faith, ' I know that my Redeem- 
er liveth I put the question, ' Why do you droop in sadness so 
often and so deeply ?' 

May the Spirit of God be shed abroad in us all more and more 
richly ; and in him and through him, may we all receive the cheer- 
ing testimony, that we are the adopted children of God in Christ 
Jesus ! 2 

1 I know when I shall die, for I die every day, and every hour to the 
world. 

2 See Note P, at the close of the Sermons. 

20 



154 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



SERMON V. i 



THE REPENTANCE AND PARDON OF THE THIEF ON THE CROSS. 

The words which will lead our devotions to-day, are found re- 
corded in Luke 23: 39-43. « But one of the malefactors which 
were hanged with him, reviled him, saying,—' If thou be Christ, 
save thyself and us.' Then the other answered and reproved him, 
saying,—' Dost thou not fear God, since thou also art in the same 
condemnation ? And we indeed are justly in it, for we have received 
what our deeds deserve ; but this man hath done nothing amiss.' 
And he said to Jesus,— 'Lord, think on me, when thou comest in 
thy kingdom.' And Jesus said unto him,—' Verily I say unto thee, 
this day shalt thou be with me in Paradise." 

A narration, rich in all kinds of edifying thought. We will first 
inquire, what the passage contains that may elevate our spirits ; 
secondly, what, that may abash them ; thirdly, what it contains that 
is apt to be misunderstood ; fourthly, what, that is fitted to console. 

First, then, we will inquire what the passage contains that may 
elevate our spirits. He who once commanded the waves in a storm, 
hath been brought down low to the dust. In him hath been fulfilled 
the ancient prophecy,—' He was of all men the most despised and 
scorned ; full of sorrows and sicknesses ; he was so despised that 
we hid our faces from hum? They have scourged him on the back ; 
they have spit upon him, even in his Godlike face ; they have' 
smitten his kingly head with a reed ; they have erected his cross 
between two malefactors; they have stripped him of his garments 
and left him nothing but his crown. Scourged, spit upon, smitten, 
naked and crowned with thorns, there he hangs ;— and vet, even 
under his cross, a sea of malice is foaming up with invective against 
him. Oh it has contained a fearful truth, that old prophetic word - 
< 1 am poured out like water ; all my bones are out of joint ; my 
heart is m my body like melted wax ; my strength is dried up like 
an earthen vessel ; my tongue cleavethto my jaws ; thou hast placed 
me in the dust of death.' 3 

* For an Analysis of this Sermon, see Note Q, at the close of the Sermons 
Isaiah53;3 ' 3 Psalm 9 2: 14, 15. 



THE PENITENT THIEF. 



155 



Have you considered, what a startling confirmation was given 
this last hour of the Lord's sorrow, to the great truth that sin, even 
in the most terrific revolt from God, must yet serve him? Can 
your most daring fancy form for itself any image, by which the idea 
of the God-like could more deeply agitate your souls, or penetrate 
them with a holier sorrow, than is done by this image which a Sa- 
viour's passion presents ? — by this man of pain, his bleeding shoul- 
ders covered with purple, the reed in his hand, the crown of thorns 
upon his head ? Has ingenuity ever succeeded in devising a more 
sacred form, one which united greater contrarieties of abasement 
and majesty, one in which abasement bore upon itself such heavenly, 
significant and noble symbols ? And did this rude insolence of the 
Roman soldiers and of the servants of Herod, — an insolence which 
was the occasion of your now beholding such an image of the Sa- 
viour, — an image which, for hundreds of years, has been one of 
holy consolation to all heavy laden hearts, — did this rude insolence, 
I ask, take place through the mere play of accident ? Oh tell me, 
have you anywhere in history a single example, which more clearly 
demonstrates the existence of a power above the clouds, into whose 
hand the threads from all men's hearts and arms run together, at 
whose nod even the loose play of chance arranges itself into the 
regular chain of a sacred, everlasting law embracing earth and 
heaven ? It is this sublime sentiment, which is awakened in our 
minds by the history contained in our text. That cross which they 
have erected for him between the malefactors, — they have erected 
it for him as a kingly throne ! Behold ! the King of glory on his 
throne ! The crown adorns his brow. His arms are stretched out 
to embrace the whole world, and place it at his heart. Above the 
throne shines the regal title, — ' This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.' 
At the right and the left are the two great divisions of the world ; at 
the left the unbelieving world, who revile him; at the. right, the 
converted world, who do him homage ; and he himself is between 
them, imparting blessedness to the one, punishment to the other, 
bending from his throne to open the gates of paradise for the peni- 
tent transgressor. Of a truth, there is in this spectacle an inward 
greatness and sublimity, against which no heart of man can harden 
itself; and even from the lips of an unbeliever, the instant he turned 



156 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



his mind to the spectacle and considered it, there was forced out the 
expression of astonishment, — ' Truly this was the Son of God V 

But secondly, there is something contained in the text, which may 
abash our spirits. Christians, you should learn, — yea verily, you 
should learn self-abasement from a malefactor ; a malefactor who 
was nailed upon the cross. Refuse not the lesson from this man. 
If you will not receive it from him, he will pass sentence upon youl; 
pass sentence, as the Redeemer said of the queen of the South, — 
' She shall rise at the last judgment against this generation and shall 
condemn it ; for she came from the ends of the earth to hear the 
wisdom of Solomon, and a greater than Solomon is here.' 

What a wonderful appearance, — this malefactor at the right hand ! 
When the God-like man stood, and lifted up his face to heaven, and 
cried, — ' Father, glorify thy name,' and the voice came from the 
clouds, — 4 1 have glorified it and will glorify it again ; 1 when he 
stood, and placed his hand upon the eyes of the blind, so that they 
saw, and upon the ears of the deaf, so that they heard ; when he 
entered into the royal city, and the people cried aloud, — 6 Hosanna 
to the Son of David, blessed be he that cometh in the name of the 
Lord,' then many were able to doubt concerning him whether he 
were a King. But now, when he lets his bruised and bleeding head 
sink down upon the ignominious tree ; when the heaven over his 
head veils itself in clouds ; when instead of the celestial voice from 
above, no words come to him but those of hell from beneath, — ' He 
hath saved others and cannot save himself ; when the hands which 
were once placed upon the eyes of the blind, upon the breast of the 
leper, and upon the head of the little child, blessing everywhere and in 
all ways, are now nailed to the cursed wood ; when the same people, 
who once cried ' Hosanna,' are exclaiming, — ' If thou art the Son of 
God, come down from the cross even at this time, the eye of the re- 
penting sinner sees the King in Jesus, and as his knee can no longer 
bow to him, the heart bows before him in adoration and lowliness. 

Friends, do you consider what a strength of faith was requisite, at 
that juncture, for the act of believing, that a man, nailed to the cross, 
was yet a King ; and that before his " Epphatha, be opened," 1 even 
the gates of paradise must be unclosed to a repenting malefactor? 
From what vapor, men have asked, could such a hope have been 
born at such an hour ? 



1 Mark 7: 34. 



THE PENITENT THIEF. 



157 



Perhaps the malefactors, who were crucified with him, saw the 
man, when he stood without an equal even before the court ; and 
when Pilate led him forth, covered with blood, a spectacle to angels 
and to men : and presenting him to the people cried out, — 4 Behold, 
what a man V They certainly saw him walk along the tedious way 
through the city, from the place of judgment to the place of blood ; 
he walked in silent sorrow, till he fainted under the burden of his 
cross. They heard him, when he said to the weeping daughters of 
Jerusalem, — 6 Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep 
for yourselves, and your children.' They certainly lent him their 
ears, and looked upon his face, as with them he raised his pain- 
burdened head, and cried out, under his crown of thorns, — ' Father, 
forgive them, for they know not what they do ;' — yea, as we con- 
jecture, they beheld at that instant, and in that face, a spectacle, the 
like to which no mortal hath ever witnessed. 

But friends, did net both of the crucified men behold the same ? 
Why did the invective ascend from one heart, while the other pre- 
sented homage ? It was his perception of his own moral need, 
which gave to the relenting thief so clear a view of the afflicted yet 
royal personage at his side. The beams, which radiated from the 
noble fellow-sufferer, beams that impregnate the spirit ; it was these, 
that by little and little melted away the ice of the heart that was be- 
numbed by sin. Hear ye not from his mouth such words as the fol- 
lowing } — " And indeed we are justly in the condemnation, for we 
have received what our sins deserve ; — but that noble personage, who 
suffers in such a way, — he cannot be a deceiver. When he bore 
witness of himself, that he held in his hand the keys of heaven and 
of the abyss, he spoke the truth. — Yet, how in a hand that was 
pierced through, could the key of heaven lie ? And a head that 
was pale in death, shall it wear the crown of majesty ? It is not 
possible ! And yet it is possible !" — In this way does faith struggle 
with doubt in the agonized heart, until faith triumphs, and the man 
exclaims, ' Lord, think of me when thou comest into thy kingdom.' 

Brethren, could he believe and adore, who saw nothing but the 
crown of thorns, and the pierced hand, and the running blood, and 
the death-sweat under the thorns upon the kingly brow ; could he 
believe, that this man uttered no falsehood when he testified that the 
keys of heaven and of the abyss lay in his pierced hand ? — and will 
you doubt, you who have lived to know of the ascension morning, 



158 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



which burst open the grave of rock, and brought up the mighty 
dead, as the Prince of life ? And will you doubt, who have lived to 
know of the ascension morning, which raised the Prince of life to 
the throne of majesty? And will you doubt, who have seen his 
invisible sceptre guide his church through more than a thousand 
years, and have beheld the seed-corn, which was planted in the 
dark night with tears, grow up to a tree, under the shadow whereof 
the fowls of the air take lodging ? — Brethren, Christ has said that 
the queen of the South shall condemn the children of this generation, 
for she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of 
Solomon : Verily, you who can doubt whether the keys of heaven 
and of the abyss lie in that pierced hand, the thief on the cross shall 
be your condemning judge. 1 

But let us see in the third place, brethren, what this history ex- 
hibits that is apt to be misunderstood. 

Is it then a fact, I hear you inquire, can the last spasmodic breath, 
with which the profligate breast is able to utter a ' God have mercy 
on me,' drown in silence the loud cry of a long, vicious life for 
vengeance ? Is it a fact, that there are no blood spots so dark, and 
so great, that they cannot be washed away by that solitary tear, 
which falls from the glassy eye of a dying sinner ? Oh happy me ! 
so let me drink deeper of it, the intoxicating cup of pleasure ; — I 
had only moistened my lips at its very brim ! Oh happy me ! Do 
I then have my portion in both worlds ; the joys of salvation and of 
the present life ? Let me first pluck the chequered, the sweet poi- 
son-flowers in the garden of time, ere I hasten to your spotless lilies, 
which bloom in the garden of your eternity.! 

Look at this ! how the brightness of heaven, which lies over the 
spectacle that we are contemplating, is changed into the yellow 
reflection of hell, for our blinded, diseased eyes ! It is true, we have 
a religion, which teaches that in the very interval of death, between, 
as it were, the lightning's flash and its stroke, 2 there is time to secure 
salvation. We have a Scripture that proclaims, ' Where sin hath 
abounded, grace abounds still more.' We have a Saviour, whom 
the poet fitly represents as saying, — ' Whoever devotes himself to 
me as my servant, I choose him as my bride ; and the sin which his 

1 See a further illustration of christian faith, in Note R, at the close of the 
Sermons. 

2 Between the lightning of death and its thunder. 



THE PENITENT THIEF. 259 

heart repents of, I look upon as having never been committed.' 
And should yon wonder at this ? To fefc e ,_with a bruised heart 
to beheve,-what is it either more or less than to open the door of 
he soul? When there was no penitence and faith, this door was 
shut ; the Saviour knocked, but it was not opened. When however 
U is once opened, does he not enter the soul, and with the Father 
take up his abode therein? Does there not enter with him, the 
Spirit of daphne and of pardon, whose work it is to convert the 
heart of man into a temple of God ? The kingdom of God then 
with alius treasures is within such a soul, and will you shut the 
door of heaven upon it, and leave it without ? 

The blind man, who as he rushes upon the precipice is suddenly 
es, or ed to sight, and who with lifted arms and joyful thanksgiving 
springs .back from the abyss, seizes and kisses the good hand that 
touched his eyes, and will never more let it go,_will you make no 
istmct.n between this blind man, and such'a'n one a" win fi 2 
ceive the kind hand that was about to touch his eyedids, bu, thrusts 
it back until-a more convenient season ?_Blind man! and how 
do yon know that the hand will ever come to you again ? Do yon 
suppose, that „ will come to you jus, as soon as you will ,o become 
penitent, to s 0e d tears of contrition, to exercise fakir ? Oh brethren 
-so perhaps many of you may have already experienced these 

th m h! J"" 8 ' *Z fl0 J ^ bare ' y Wh6n lhe ™ ^ - have 
them Have you not heard of the judicial obduracy which conies 
over those, who turn the grace of God into licentiousness ? B e "y e 
me; in the inward life of the sinner, to whom the grace of God 
woul give the sighings of repentance, and the tears'of contrition 
an the blessedness of faith, but he will not receive the gift,_2 

no mTs h Z h0aTS ° f SlUmbenng ' Wh6n the heavl 
no more s.ghs the eye shall shed no more tears, and the hands 

hough they shall fold themselves convulsively, yet'shal, not be a ,e 
on UdL Z.""^ ^ anChOT ° flon ^ desire, thrown out 

dece Lfld f °k ° tl0m '° '* h " Bene, 
deceived, God will not be mocked ! Oh the Holy Spirit which in- 

viteth man to repentance is a tender Spirit,-once sent away 7c 

oTh;: : c o k dr n_re,uc r tly and rare,y - ».*-"-3!S 
s n I ;t y come ' word of truth testifies ' their 1 d — n 



1 Rom. 3: 8. 



160 SERMONS OF PROF. THOLTJCK. 

But let us in the last place, my friends, consider the rich consola- 
tion, which this passage of sacred writ exhibits to us. 

Sinner, while thou standest Ms side the grave, it is never too late 
for thy repentance,-this is the sacred comfort which springs forth 
from the words of the Redeemer on the cross. 

< It is too late P Oh word of terror which has already fallen like 
the thunder of God upon many a heart of man!-See that father, 
as he hastens from the burning house, and thinks that he has taken 
all his children with him; he counts, one dear head is missing; 
he hastens back,- 4 It is too late !' is the hollow sound that strikes his 
ear • the stone wall tumbles under the roaring torrent of flame, he 
swoons and sinks to the ground. -Who is that hastening through the 
darkness of the night on the winged courser ? It is the son, who 
has been wandering in the ways of sin, and now at last longs to hear 
from the lips of his dying father the word, < I have forgiven you. 
Soon he is at his journey's end, in the twinkling of an eye he is 
at the door,-' It is too late,' shrieks forth the mother's voice, that 
mouth is closed forever !' and he sinks fainting into hei arms—See 
that victim for the scaffold; and the executioner, whetting the 
steel of death. The multitude stand shivering and dumb. Who is 
iust heaving in sight on yonder distant hill, beckoning with signs of 
oy> It is the king's express ; he brings a pardon I Nearer and 
nearer comes his step: Pardon! resounds through the crowd-softly 
at first, and then louder and yet louder. 'It is too late! the 
guilty head has already fallen !-Yea, since the earth has stood, the 
heart of many a man has been fearfully pierced through by the 
cutting words, ' It is too late.' But oh, who will describe to me 
the lamentation that will arise, when at the boundary line which 
parts time from eternity, the voice of the righteous Judge will cry, 

< It is too late I' Long have the wide gates of heaven stood open, 
and its messengers have cried at one time and another,— To day, 
today if ye will hear his voice! Man, man, how then will it be 
with you, when once these gates, with appalling sound, shall be shut 
for eternity ! " Agonize that you may enter in at the narrow gate ; 
for many, I say unto you, shall strive to enter in, and shall not be 
able When once the master of the house hath arisen and shut the 
door, then shall ye begin to stand without, and to knock at the door 
and to say,-' Lord, Lord, open unto us,' and he will answer and 
say unto you, ' I know you not, whence ye are." 



THE SPECIAL PRESENCE OF GOD. 161 

But, my friends, the more appalling the truth is, that, at the divid- 
ing line between time and eternity, the sentence will be proclaimed,— 
' It is too late ;' so much the more consoling is the word, flowing 
down to us from the cross of Jesus-Sinner, while thou standest on 
this side the grave, it is never too late.—' Therefore let us fear,' 
cries an apostle to us, ' lest we should slight the promise of entering 
into his rest, and some one of us remain behind ;— to day, if ye will 
hear his voice, harden not your hearts.' Whether the voice of thy 
God will come to thee again and search thee out,— this thou knowest 
not; but whatever may lie behind thee, whether nights of the dark- 
est error, whether mountains of sin,— thou distinctly nearest to day 
his proclamation,—' It is not too late !' 



SERMON VI. i 

THE PRESENCE OF GOD WITH HIS CHILDREN. 

To-day, beloved in Christ, I turn my attention to one particular 
class of hearers; not to those among you who are secure and at 
ease m the way to death, nor to those who enjoy peace and blessed- 
ness in the way to life ; but to you, unhappy men, who hang between 
heaven and earth ; who cannot die, and cannot live ; whom the 
earth will not leave unmolested, and whom heaven will not accept 
It is a fearful state when, in the heart that was created for God the 
world and Satan reign, and yet the man can pass on in presumptuous 
confidence, and say to himself and to others,-I have peace, all 
goes well. But you will say, it is a condition still more fearful, 
when one looks at the opened heaven above him, full of arace and 
truth, and yet cannot break loose from the pollutions of earth ; when 
he is thus the prey of two conflicting powers. Many supposing this 
latter state to be worse than that of careless sin, make no attempt to 
wake themselves from the slumber of death, but press down their 
eyelids so much the closer, that they may sleep the more. But let 

1 For an Analysis of this Sermon, see Note S, at the close of the Sermons. 
21 



162 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



us see which of the two states is the more fearful. Were the pangs 
of the struggling soul, which oscillates between death and life, to be 
your eternal portion, then would you have reason to regard it as of 
all portions the most disconsolate. But, my brother, such pangs 
are the pangs of the new birth. They are the contending of the 
morning twilight with the thick clouds of the night. Struggle on 
with fortitude, and the soul will be born anew ; the sun will come 
out clear from the former darkness. 1 Ye who are striving with sin, 
who are stretching out your hand for help, I will reach out to you a 
brother's arm. Ye who like Peter of old walk on the waves, and 
with hands stretched forth, cry out, ' Lord, we sink Christ will ex- 
tend his hand to help you ; ye shall not sink. From these birth- 
pangs shall the new man be born after the image of God. From 
these night-heavens shall the sun of righteousness shine forth. Wilt 
thou be made whole ? Thus the Lord asked the sick around him ; 
thus also he asks you, to-day. Hear the words of the Holy Scripture 
which, in this discourse, I will present before you in the name of 
God. They should be to you like the hand, that is stretched out 
from heaven to raise up from the power of sin and death all who 
will take hold of it. " Draw nigh to God," cries the apostle James, 
chap. 4: v. 8, " and he will draw nigh to you." 2 

Before we commence the regular discussion of these words of the 
apostle, let us, beloved, free them from a misconstruction which 
might attach itself to them. It might easily appear from this mode 
of expression, as if it were man himself who took the first step 
in the way to life. But if so, where would be the apostle's words, 
4 What hast thou which thou didst not receive, and if thou didst 
receive it, why then dost thou boast of thyself.' No, my friends, he 
who is the first to stretch out the hand and to come near, is God ; 
and the apostle's assertion in this passage can be applied to 
support no sentiment but the following,— whatever aid is proffered 
thee, thou must eagerly embrace, if thou wouldst obtain more. We 
are, all of us, stewards of the manifold gifts and graces of God ; ac- 
cordingly he hath come to meet us all, and it is needful that we go 
forth to meet him, if we would receive more of his aid. In a manner 
altogether peculiar then, are the words of our text designed for you, 



1 See Note T, at the close of the Sermons. 

2 See Note U, at the close of the Sermons. 



THE SPECIAL PRESENCE OF GOD. 



163 



who with deep humility confess that the grace of God has already- 
come near you, but yet weep, partly because you cannot appropriate 
this grace to yourself, and partly because you have not full and en- 
tire satisfaction in it. Let us then, in the first place, propound the 
question, how God draws near unto men, and secondly, how men 
draw near unto God. 

1. Flow does God draw near unto men ? He draws near to them 
as God the Father, in the work of creation and preservation. On all 
sides is every thing which liveth surrounded with the great mystery 
of love. It was love which, on the morning of the creation, cried 
into the darkness, 6 let there be light,' and light was. The indepen- 
dent and eternal God, who might in his self-existence and blessed- 
ness have dwelt forever alone, desired to have co-partners of his 
blessedness, and he therefore created the world and spirits allied to 
his own nature. And now, soul of man ! whenever in the elevation 
of joy thou lookest upon thyself, and say est to thyself, ' I am ;' be 
sure that thou also utter this exclamation, ' It is eternal love which 
hath made me in the image of God. 1 That love, which brought thee 
into existence on earth, see, how it bears thee in its motherly 
arms through this poor life, which is wreathed about with thorns 
and misery. Far above this earth, where souls of men abide, 
thither penetrates a beam from this sun, and thither goes with 
it this motherly love, mild and blessing ; and it warms and sustains 
and cherishes and shelters the ever needy heart of man. Even the 
rudest mind can form a conception of this near approach of God in 
the work of creation and preservation. Paul goes into the midst of 
the heathen world and proclaims, c Turn ye to the living God, v/ho 
made heaven and earth and the sea and all that is therein ; and hath 
not left himself without a witness, but hath given us much good, and 
hath sent rain and fruitful seasons from heaven, and hath filled our 
hearts with joy and gladness.' 1 

But creating and preserving love has not provided a mirror for 
itself in thee alone. Around us and afar off has it also erected its 
tabernacle. The morning stars of heaven rejoice in their Maker, 
and the modest flower of the earth praises him in the lovely vale. 
"When a man, who hath first received into his own heart the full 
consciousness of that love which encircles heaven and earth in the 
embrace of its motherly arms, when such a man goeth forth on a 
1 Acts 14: 15,17. 



164 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLTJCK. 



bright day of spring into the solitary temple of nature ; oh — what a 
unison doth he feel between his own heart and all created objects, 
as they adore and sing, — ' Eternal, all-protecting love ! Hallowed 
be thy name !' Tea my brethren, in the work of his creation God the 
Father hath approached near unto us, inexpressibly near unto us, 
even as man to man ; — to us, his poor children, standing in the need 
of help ; — and let every thing which hath breath praise and exalt the 
Lord ! 1 

But although, my friends, we are placed in this glorious temple of 
nature as the priests of God, yet are we in no way profited by it, 
unless we be in reality priests. Of what avail is the fulness of all 
gifts and good things, which flow forth to thee from the exhaustless 
store-house of heaven and earth, if they do not expand thy heart to 
deep-felt gratitude, and humble obedience ? Of what avail, that 
every star in the heaven and every worm upon the earth has a 
tongue, with which it bears witness of eternal love, when the heart 
is deaf, and thy mouth continues speechless ? Of what avail to us, 
that God the Father has revealed himself in us and in nature as the 
Father of all that lives, unless we be his children ? And until God 
the Son has transformed us to be the children of his Father, oh how 
pitiably man stands on the heaving bosom of nature; how poor, how 
ignorant ; unable to expound the riddle ; living like the heathen 
without God and without hope in the world ; and instead of folding 
his hands, he wrings them in despair. 

2. But, brethren, God hath come near unto us, as God the Son, 
in the work of Redemption. Without Christ the heaven of stars, as 
well as the heart of man, remains to us, a sealed hieroglyphic. 
Seest thou not how men conjecture about it ? how diversely they 
unravel it ? how they interpret scarcely a single syllable here and 
there of the great enigma ? The Holy, the Unknown, whose 
characteristic features thou couldst not detect when thou soughtest 
to decipher them from the flowers, from the stars, from the hearts 
of men ; lo, he hath come forth to meet thee, he hath come near to 
thee, as a man to his neighbor ; in Galilee hath he set up his taber- 
nacle ; look into the heart of Jesus, and thou hast read the heart of 
God ; for, this is his exclamation, 4 Whoever hath seen me, Philip, 
hath seen the Father.' Adorable love ! when I passed thee by and 



See Note V, at tue close. 



THE SPECIAL PRESENCE OF GOD. 



165 



knew thee not, then didst thou lie hidden behind the veil of nature ; 
then did I form conjectures concerning thee, and my heart swelled 
with fulness of longing desire ; but since I have looked upon thee in 
the Son of God, who hath come to find the lost sheep, and who 
inviteth the sorrowful and heavy laden to himself, since that time, 
I have looked directly upon thy face, and I know thee, and bow my 
knee before thee, and exclaim, — Eternal love ! pass not away from 
me, from me the poorest of thy children ! 

Yea, my friends, what a hidden being is God, before he hath be- 
come manifest to us in Christ; and how completely veiled also is 
the heart of man, before thou learnest its character, in contrast with 
the Saviour's. While I look upon him as the Son of God and of 
man, the feeling is awakened in my breast, that even I am of a God- 
like race ; and yet, when I look upon him, tears break forth from 
my eyes; for alas, the God-like image within me is shamefully dis- 
figured, and that which ought to reign in my bosom, serves. In 
contrast with his obedience, I learned my own disobedience ; in 
contrast with his humility, I learned my own pride ; in contrast with 
his compassion and the swelling of his heart with tenderness, I 
learned how cold and unfeeling was my own spirit. And I stood 
troubled exceedingly, and ashamed, and my tears flowed forth. 
Then spake a voice, from the throne of glory, saying, ' Weep not, 
for the Lion of the tribe of Judah hath overcome.' Wilt thou be 
made whole ? ' Yea, Lord,' I answered, ' ah thou knowest how 
strongly I desire it.' Then said he, ' My Son, be of good cheer, 
there is help for thee ; stand up and follow me.' And I followed 
him, and lo, I became conscious that he had not disappointed me, 
when he said, 'Whoever believeth in me, hath already received 
everlasting life.' 

Behold, how God comes near to man in the work of redemption. 
But in vain does he come outwardly near thee in the work of crea- 
tion and atonement, unless he come also near thee in the sanctuary 
of thine own soul. Christ as well as nature, the manifestation of 
the Son in redeeming as well as of the Father in creating, stands 
before thee as a dumb enigma, unless the Spirit perform his pre- 
paratory work upon thy heart. 

3. But God the Spirit also approacheth men in his work of 
sanctineation. If God bring thee not to God, thou canst not find 
God. This is the third way in which Jehovah comes near to man ; 



166 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLTTCK. 



he sends the Divine Spirit, who has his seat of operation in the in- 
most recesses of the human heart, who invites and attracts continually, 
until he has brought the man to Christ. 1 God hath caused all na- 
tions of men, being of one blood, to dwell on the whole face of the 
earth ; and hath fixed and pre-determined the bounds, both of time 
and space, in which they should live, so that they might seek after 
God, if perhaps they might feel after him and find him. And indeed, 
he is not far from every one of us, for in him we live, move, and are.' 

Man ! feel the whole greatness of that which is proclaimed to 
thee by this truth. In thine inmost nature art thou thus rooted 
within the Spirit of God. No finite being is so near, not even thou 
thyself art so near to thine own soul, as the Spirit of God is. He is 
with thee when thou standest up ; he goeth with thee when thou 
liest down ; and if thou take the wings of the morning, and fly even 
to the outmost sea, yet even there will his hand hold thee. Thou 
canst by no means escape from his strong hold. The man who 
hath sunk into darkness, would fain release himself from God ; he 
may not recognize his divine companion, yet the hand of this com- 
panion is upon him. Thou hangest the veil before thee, thou seest 
him not, but he seeth thee. Beloved man, he who inwardly speak- 
eth to thee is not thine enemy. Turn not away from his voice. It 
is the voice of thy friend, the voice of thy best friend, thy God and 
Father, who will bear thee to his Son. What he teacheth will in- 
deed give thee pain ; thou thoughtest thou wert full and hadst a 
sufficient supply ; oh see, he convinceth thee that thou art naked 
and destitute ; he exciteth in thy soul a hunger and thirst ; it may 
make thee lament, but, beloved man, turn him not away ; lo, he 
maketh thee poor and naked and hungry and thirsty, for no other 
reason than this, that he will clothe thee with new celestial garments, 
such as his Son hath provided for thee, and such as thou shalt wear 
in his kingdom ; for no other reason than this, that he will feed 
thee and give thee drink, — feed with heavenly bread, and give thee 
living water, such as his Son shall dispense to thee in his kingdom. 

Behold, my christian friends, the arms of love which your God 
spreadeth out for you, which come near unto you, and are stretched 
forth to embrace you in all your ways ! A sea of love surrounds 
you all, with its waves on all sides ; but how many of you thirst 
amid these waves, and must continue to thirst in the midst of them, 
if you will not extend your arms to meet your God. Will you be 



THE SPECIAL PRESENCE OF GOD. 



167 



made whole ? This is the question which I earnestly repeat to you. 
If it was necessary that the man, upon whom the miracle of physical 
healing was performed, should be willing to be cured, how much 
more necessary is it that the man, whose soul is to be restored, should 
desire the restoration. Christ revives and enlightens you, not with- 
out nor against your will. But behold, here is the diseased place in 
your heart. All ye who are not dead in your sins, and who yet 
cannot come into decided spiritual life ; who affirm that you believe, 
and yet are not conscious of the power and blessedness of living in 
the Redeemer, — the reason of your present condition is this ; when 
Christ with all earnestness inquires, 4 Will you indeed be made 
whole,' you answer, 'No, we will not V You hunger not, you thirst 
not, — how shall God give you food ? 

Will you indeed be made whole ? Then draw near to God. 
Draw near to him and he will draw near to you. The sea of love 
will not barely surround you, so that you shall remain joyless amid 
its waves ; you shall drink from that sea. 

1. Draw near to God in the work of creation and preservation. 
W T hy fleest thou from solitude ? Why dost thou shun the lonely 
hour ? Why passeth thy life away like the feast of the drunkard ? 
Why is it that to many of you there cometh not, through the whole 
course of the week, a single hour for self-meditation ? You go 
through life like dreaming men. Ever among mankind, and never 
with yourselves. So it was not with our forefathers ; they had in 
their life many a still hour. When the evening came, then had 
every one a set period which was consecrated to his God. You 
have torn down the cloister ; but why have you not erected it within 
your hearts. Lo, my brother, if thou wouldstseek out the still hour, 
only a single one every day, and if thou wouldst meditate on the 
love which called thee into being, which hath overshadowed thee all 
the days of thy life with blessing, or else by mournful experiences 
hath admonished and corrected thee ; this would be to draw near to 
thy God ; thus wouldst thou take him by the hand. But whenever 
in ceaseless dissipation of heart thou goest astray, the sea of the 
divine blessing shall surround thee on all sides, and yet thy soul shall 
be athirst. — Wilt thou draw near to God in his works of creation 
and preservation ? Then seek the still hour. 1 



1 See Note W, at the close. 



168 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



2. Draw near to God in his work of Redemption. How like a 
friend he hath come forth to meet a world of sinners ! and they go 
not forth to meet him ! Ye, who are conscious that ye have in the 
word of God eternal life, do ye read that word every day ? Believe 
me, there are very many among you who will remain in suspense 
and fluctuation of mind, and can never arrive at sure conviction, 
until they find opportunity to read the Scriptures every day in the 
still hour. But it is a question of vital import, — In what manner do 
you read ? Ye who are earnest in the pursuit of heaven, read first 
the history of your Lord, so that you may collect into a single sun 
all the scattered rays of his image. Let your first effort be to obtain 
a deep impression of his entire, holy character and conduct. This 
sacred image will attend you through the whole day, as a companion 
to humble, to console, to animate you ; it will be with you like a good 
spirit. Whoever looks for a long time at the sun, receives the sun's 
full image in his eye, so that he beholds nothing anywhere but that 
luminary. Thus, my beloved brother, when through the whole 
morning you look upon the sun of the Redeemer's image, that sacred 
form will impress itself upon you, and whatever you see, you will 
see it only in its relations to Christ ; you will rejoice when you 
recognize one ray from him ; you will weep when you cannot dis- 
cover him ; you will follow every way-mark, and every lifted finger 
which points to him, — Will you then draw near to God in the work 
of Redemption ? Read the testimony respecting his Son, which he 
has placed in your hand. 

3. Draw near to God when he comes to you in the Spirit, as it 
operates within your heart. Oh that I might, with divine power, 
penetrate all your souls with this cry ;— whenever you feel within 
your spirits the attraction and voice of your Father, resist it not ; it 
is the voice of God ; it is the work of God ; fail not to hear it ; for 
it is in this particular that the righteousness of God is manifested in 
the most fearful way. ' There dwells,' says a heathen writer, ' in 
men, a Holy Spirit, who treats us as he is treated by us.' Once 
turned away, he comes back again the more seldom, and speaks to 
us with less and less power. But what can I do, you ask, if the 
voice within me sounds but softly ; or if I have disdained it, until it 
has become scarcely audible ? Brother, it stands recorded : ' Ask, 
and it shall be given you ; seek, and you shall find ; knock, and it 
shall be opened to you.' You reply, 4 1 have a cold heart. I cannot 



THE SPECIAL PBESENCE OF GOD. 



169 



pray ;' but I ask you, is not a warm heart a good gift ? If it is so, 
then I add, it stands written, ' If ye who are evil yet know how to 
give good gifts unto your children, how much more will your Father 
bestow favor upon them who ask it.' It is a mistake, a dangerous 
error to suppose that man should pray only when his heart prompts. 
What shall one do, when his heart dies away, and incites him no 
more ? Knowest thou not, that the soul is stimulated to prayer by 
prayer itself. Hast thou never yet experienced that happy state, 
when the soul, grieving over its inward barrenness and coldness, 
casts itself down, and begins with frigid feeling to pray, and this 
very prayer transforms the heart of stone into one of flesh, and 
thine affections begin to swell within thee and to pour themselves 
out more and more freely, and the words flow forth in richer and 
richer abundance, and thou canst find no end to them, and thou art 
overpowered, and criest aloud, — ' Yea verily, oh God, thou canst do 
superabundantly above all that we ask and think ?' But you say, — 
4 Alas, my supplication falls back again so cold and faint upon me. 
It seems as if I mocked God with my prayer, full of words but 
without a soul.' Brother, I ask you only one question Do you hun- 
ger for the bread of life ? If you do, then certainly you do not mock 
your God with your supplication. Shall it be that you entreat longingly 
for bread, and are refused ? Nay, nay, he in whose countenance 
we behold all that is paternal, hath inquired, 1 What man is there 
among you, who if his son ask for bread, will give him a stone ?' 
Cry out in full trust, 'Bread, Father ! I wish ! Thou who givest 
earthly bread to the young ravens, thy child longeth for the bread 
of the soul.' And do you think that to you alone, among all mortals, 
there would come a refusal ? Remember that the holy men of God ; 
remember that, in particular, Augustus Hermann Francke 1 fell on 
his knees and prayed, — ' God, if thou art, manifest thyself unto me.' 
Lo, thus was he obliged to legin to learn how to pray ; and the 
manner in which he ended, the conclusion to which he came, you 
know — see, the edifice of his faith, of his prayers, is erected among 
you, an imperishable monument. And can you still doubt, you with 
the cold heart, that you will learn to pray with warm and glowing 
feeling, if you will but begin in faith ? Beloved Christians, draw 
near to the Holy Spirit of God in supplication. 

Come then, all ye who are not dead, and yet are not alive ; ye 
1 See Note X, at the close of the Sermons. 
22 



170 



SERMONS OF PROF. THOLUCK. 



whom the earth will not leave unmolested, and whom heaven will 
not accept ; ye who serve two masters, how long will ye fluctuate ? 
Hold fast in your souls this one truth ; whatsoever can be done on 
the part of God, hath already been done. The wedding festival is 
prepared; you have been invited; nothing remains but for you to 
come. The sea of love surrounds you ; nothing remains but for 
you to drink. At the last day, when you wring your hands in despair, 
shall it be said, 4 1 was willing, but ye were not willing ?' How to 
approach him who approacheth you so graciously, you know. Seek 
the still hour, every day. Read the Holy Scriptures, every day. 
Attend, every hour and every instant, to every attracting influence 
of the Holy Spirit. When the Spirit keepeth silence, then cling to 
your prayer. 

Israel ! why wilt thou die ? Lo, thou knowest what course is 
needful for thy happiness. Whoever remaineth shut out, whoever 
remaineth shut out from the work of grace, — he hath shut himself 
out. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 

NOTE A, Page 115. 

The sermons of Tholuck, which are translated in this volume, may not be 
the most highly finished specimens of his pulpit-style ; but they are sup- 
posed to exhibit as much thought that would be interesting to American 
Christians, and in combination with this as much of their author's peculiari- 
ty of manner, as any equal number which he has published. They were all 
preached at the service appointed for the University students at Halle. The 
title of the volumes from which they are taken is, li Predigten in dem akade- 
mischen Gottesdienste der Universitat Halle in der St. Ulrichs — und in der 
Domkirehe gehalten, von Dr. A. Tholuck." The first sermon in this selection 
is found in Tholuck's 4th Volume, or more properly " Sammlung," pp. 
54—68; the second, in his 2d Vol. pp. 164—176; the third, in his 4th Vol. 
pp. 123— 136; the fourth, in his 1st Vol. pp. 32— 46 ; the fifth, in his 1st 
Vol. pp. 161—171 ; the sixth, in his first Vol. pp. 74— 86, 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 171 

NOTE B, Page 115. 

The title which Tholuck gives to this sermon is, " The true idea of the 
external discipline of the law under the Christian economy." As Tholuck 
is sometimes accused of incoherency in his train of thought, it is judged ex- 
pedient to give a brief synopsis of the contents of each sermon. The fol- 
lowing is an analysis of the first discourse. 

Introduction; — the piety of former times characterized by observance of 
law; that of modern times, by impulses of feeling; p. 115. Text, explica- 
tion, division ; p. 116. The fervent Christian is not prompted to the per- 
formance of his religious duties by the fact, that they are commanded ; p. 
117. Illustration, drawn from our performance of many moral duties, with- 
out being prompted by the civil law ; happiness of such a state of freedom; 
p. 118. — The Christian, so far as be is remiss, stands in need of law; he 
needs the law, that he may have before him a standard of perfect virtue ; in 
what manner does the law humble for sin ; what is comprehended under 
the term 'law;' p. 119. The imperfect Christian needs the law, that he may 
be fortified against the sins, which most strongly tempt him ; reciprocal in- 
fluence of internal and external actions ; p. 120. Necessity of resisting sin ; 
p. 121. Importance of outward observances, illustrated in the case of the 
ancient Israelites ; also in the case of the Quakers ; pp. 122, 123. Ex- 
hortation to observe outward forms; p. 123. The imperfect Christian needs 
the law, as a seal of the method which he has chosen of obtai ning the divine 
favor through grace; p. 124. Dependence of Protestant Christians on their 
own works; illustration; pp. 124, 125. Conclusion, p. 125. 

NOTE C, Page 116. 

Perhaps there is no act of the Saviour's life, more full of doctrinal instruc- 
tion, and more illustrative of the remark that his deeds were in themselves 
discourses, than that recorded in Matt. 12: 1—8, Mark 2: 23— 28, and Luke 
6: 1 — 5. He evinced here as well as elsewhere, the greatness and stability 
of his mind, by doing what was precisely right, in opposition to the two 
parties who were, though in two opposite ways, wrong. Some would have 
been glad to see the Sabbath desecrated, and many would have been 
glad to see it observed with over-scrupulous strictness ; but Christ in 
opposition to both extremes does what is just right. An ultra-conservative 
spirit would have inquired, whether one extreme of wrong were not safer 
than the other ; whether there were not a stronger tendency in man to 
license than to rigor; and therefore whether it would not be the more judi- 
cious and prudent course, to go a little farther than needful one way, so as to 
deter men from going too far the other way ; to encourage the extreme of 
undue severity, so as to draw men from the worse extreme of injurious 
liberty. But with a full view of the proneness of man to convert indulgence 
into license, our Saviour defended the course which was most obnoxious to 
the high religionists of his time. And yet he defended it on such sober 



172 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



principles, as to give no countenance to those latitudinarian views of the 
Sabbath, which his act is supposed bj some to have sanctioned. 

The five reasons, which he gave for the plucking of the ears of corn, are, — 
first, that the example of David, recorded in 1 Sam. 21: 6, is a precedent 
for allowing the necessities of nature to suspend ceremonial observances ; 
secondly, that the custom of sacrificing victims, circumcising infants, and 
performing other works connected with the rites of Judaism, was a prece- 
dent for allowing just so much manual and secular labor, as the spiritual 
good of men required ; thirdly, that the Old Testament expressly declares 
mercy to be more acceptable to God than sacrifice ; or, in other words, 
kindness and rational benevolence to one's self and others, to be better than 
austere and onerous ceremonies, see Hosea 6: 6; fourthly, that the Sab- 
bath is not the end and man the means, but man is the end and the Sabbath 
the means; and fifthly, that the Messiah is Lord of the Sabbath, and has 
power at any time to release from its observance. For a full explanation 
of these reasons, see Calvin's Com. Vol. 1. pp. 280, 281. — The evil conse- 
quences, which have resulted, and are still resulting, to the interests of re- 
ligion upon the continent of Europe, from the loose views of the Reformers 
on the. subject of the Sabbath, and from the propagation of these views 
through the German and the neighboring churches, form a striking com- 
mentary on the dissonance of so lax a doctrine with the doctrine, always 
salutary, of the great Teacher of morals. 

This may be a proper place to add, that first in the paragraph to which 
this note refers, and subsequently in various parts of the sermon, there is an 
explanation given of the words, " the Son of man is Lord of the Sabbath," 
which although defended by some able critics, does not seem to be correct. 
" In the concluding expression," says Olshausen, " which all the evangelists 
have in common— < The Son of man is Lord of the Sabbath,' the words 
1 Son of man' cannot possibly be supposed parallel with the word < man' in 
Mark 2: 27. For although sinful mortals were not made for the sake of the 
law, but conversely the law was made for the sake of these mortals; yet it 
would be altogether improper to affirm, that they are Lords of the law, or of 
any one of its ordinances. This can be said of him only who is the perfect 
man, the first of men. The phrase ' Son of man' is here to be regarded as 
in contrast with the word 1 man' in Mark 2: 27, and therefore the phrase ex- 
presses the Messianic authority of Jesus. As the Lord of heaven (1 Cor. 
15: 47), even while wandering here below in the plain garb of a human 
being, the Messiah was elevated above all the legal ordinances, for his will 
itself was the law. He never exhibits himself, however, as in any manner 
annulling the law, but as fulfilling it in a deep spiritual sense, Matt. 5: 17. 
Thus the Redeemer fulfils the precept of the Old Testament respecting the 
Sabbath, while he recommends an inward warmth of soul and rest in God." 
Comm. on New Test. Vol. I. p. 366. 

Tholuek's opinion, that the term Sabbath is used in the text by synecdoche 
for the whole law, is the same with that of Olshausen, Vol. L p. 365, and of 
other evangelical commentators. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



173 



NOTE D, Page 125. 

The title which Tholuck gives to this sermon is, { f The truth, that the 
Lord is not in the storm and tempest, but in the soft, still sound,— con- 
sidered in reference to the appearance of the Saviour in the world." 

The sermon was preached Dec. 26, 1834, on the second day of the 
Christmas-Festival ; hence the allusions in the introductory sentence. The 
religious festivities of Christmas, as observed by the German Lutherans,, 
commence on the 25th of December, and extend to the 6th of January ; the 
former day being regarded as that of Christ's birth, and the latter as that of 
the Epiphany. The 26'th of Dec, the second day of Christmas, is connected 
with a particular reference to the martyrdom of Stephen ; the 27th, the 
third day, to the memory of John the Evangelist; and the 28th, the fourth 
day, to the slaughter of the infants at Bethlehem. See Augusti Handbuch 
der Christ. Archaeol. 1. pp. 531, 7, 8. 

The following is the analysis of this discourse. Introduction ; general 
celebration of the birth of Christ ; p. 126. Text ; explication ; pp. 126, 127 ; 
Division, p. 123. The gentleness of Christ's mission is shown by the man- 
ner of his entrance into the world ; p. 128. Effect produced on the mind by 
conceiving of the appearance of Jehovah to us ; p. 128. Difference between 
the mode of creating, and that of destroying ; peculiar circumstances of 
Christ's advent ; what might they have been; p. 129. What will be the 
circumstances of his second coming; p. 130. The gentleness of Christ,, 
exemplified in his progress through the world ; humility of his appearance £ 
p. 130. Predictions of his mildness ; contrast between him as a preacher, 
and other inspired men ; p. 131. Character of Christ's miracles in contrast 
with what it might have been, and what the character of other miracles has 
been ; p. 132. The gentleness of Christ shown in the manner of his leaving 
the world; how might he have departed; how did he depart. Con> 
elusion ; p. 133. 

NOTE E, Page 128. 

Tholuck has another discourse on the same text with this, and imme- 
diately succeeding it, in Vol. 2, pp.177 — 192. Subject,— The truth that 
' God is not in the storm and tempest,' considered in its application to God's 
treatment of men. The following is a brief abstract of it. 

" My worshipping friends, on the last Feast-day I made this text the theme 
of a discourse, and considered it in reference to the appearance of Jesus 
Christ in the world. — But as the diamond sends forth its bright beams from 
whatever side it may be looked upon, so many incidents and expressions 
recorded in sacred writ impart instruction, from whatever aspect they may 
be viewed. This is true with our text ; in various respects the Lord is not 
in the storm but in the soft sound. Let us to day consider the words in 
reference to God's treatment of men. 



174 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



If now we understand by the storm and tempest those times in 
which God comes near to men with terror and desolation, it may appear 
questionable, whether the words of our text can be applied to his treatment 
of our race. For who of us does not know how often in the history of the 
world, how often in the history of the christian church the Lord has appear- 
ed in terror and devastation ? Yea who is not aware how much more in- 
frequent have been the times, when God appeared to him in the mild gentle 
sunshine, than those in which he came as the storms roared, and the clouds 
of the tempest gathered. The Lord does indeed appear to man in the storm 
and tempest, as Christ also will appear in the same, though at his first 
coming he appeared in the soft sound. 

We add, however, that the most appropriate manifestations of the Deity 
are in the gentle mode. When our text asserts, that he is not in the storm 
and tempest, it can be understood only in this sense, he is not in the storm 
and tempest so characteristically as in the gentle whisper. Thus you often 
find in the Bible an exclusive and negative proposition, which must be 
understood with some limit of this sort. It is said for example, ' I am not 
come to bring peace but a sword,' and also, « when thou makest an enter- 
tainment, invite not thy friends, but the poor, the cripple, the blind, the 
hme,' Wherefore let us consider, first, the truth that the Lord does come 
in the storm and tempest, and secondly that he comes, in a more peculiar 
sense, in the soft sound. 

1. That the Lord comes in storm and tempest is evident, in the first place, 
from the history of the world, and of the church, as they are considered 
collectively. It seems to be with men, as it is with the hour-glass, which 
must at certain times be turned upside down, so that it may go. (Illus- 
trated by various historical facts.) 

That the Lord comes in storm and tempest is shown, in the second place, 
in the history of men considered individually — Is it not true that when the 
sun shines upon us, and we feel its gentle warmth in our life, we become 
indifferent to its mild beams, and do not so much as ask, whence comes the 
pleasant light ? Because it is grateful to our feelings, we think that it is a 
matter of course. If any one says, this is the work of the beloved God, it is 
said in mere formality. Not until the tempest comes, which we dread, do 
we look around us and inquire,— whence comes this? Before the eye of 
the Christian there rises to the clouds from every event in life a thread, on 
which the eye moves along up to the Source, where all gifts end and begin. 
But the eye of the natural man sees not the thread, so long as the sun 
shines. When it is night and lightning gleams through the darkness, then 
only does he discern the thread, then for the first time do his tardy affections 
rise Upward to God. Oh what an image of the heart of man, in this respect, 
is the history of Israel. What Moses says in his parting song, how it is 
confirmed in the history of us all. < The Lord found them in the desert, in 
the barren wilderness ; and as an eagle fluttereth over her young, and bear- 
eth them away, so the Lord spread out his wings, and took them, and 
bore them on his wings, and nourished them with the fruits of the 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 175 

field, and let them suck honey from the rock, and oil from the hard 
stone. But when they were satiated and had become fat, they were 
insolent. They grew strong, and neglected the God who made them.' 
As David confesses of himself, 'Before I was brought low I went astray, 
but now, Lord, 1 keep thy word,' so do the greater part of Christians confess, 
each of himself, 1 As long as thou, eternal God, heldest back thy lightning 
and thunder, I went astray ; but when they prostrated me upon the ground, 
1 then attended, for the first time, to thy word, and learned by experience 
that the Lord cometh to men in the storm and tempest.' And this is not 
only the fact at the first return to God, at conversion ; ah, is it not our 
general experience that the star of faith never shines brighter, than when it 
is night all around us ? and that the field of our life never brings forth better 
fruit than when the storm and tempest come over it ? What but this is the 
reason that you, who are the most experienced Christians, when you look 
back upon your days gone by, think of the days of storm and commotion, 
with no less gratitude than those of peace ; for all chastisement when it is 
upon us, seemeth to be not a matter of joy but of sorrow ; yet afterwards it 
will yield the peaceable fruit of righteousness, to those who are exercised 
by it ? 

2. It is true, however, that the appropriate coming of the Deity is in the 
gentle sound. What do we understand by the term, appropriate coming ? 
We understand such a manifestation as that which he will make through all 
eternity, and in which he will always come to his glorified church. When, 
as the Scripture saith, ' the condition of the world passeth away,' then shall 
also pass away all those modes, in which the Lord was wont to present him- 
self before his friends, in a world where sin and death reigned. And the 
way in which God will exhibit himself through all eternity, when sin and 
death shall be no more, must be the proper and appropriate way. (For the 
admissibility of such a phrase, see Isaiah 28: 21 .— Tr.) Let us consider how 
the holy seer viewed these last days, when he said, < And I John saw the 
holy city, the New Jerusalem come down from God out. of heaven, prepared 
as a bride adorned for her husband. And 1 heard a grea t voice from heaven 
saying, Behold the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with 
them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and 
shall be their God, and shall wipe away ail tears from their eyes, and death 
shall be no more, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more 
pain ; for the former things have passed away.' So shall it be at the end of 
the world ; as a silent sunbeam he shall come down softly and solemnly, 
and all the hearts of men shall be flowers holding themselves still before 
him, and drinking in the sunbeam, without moving, without turning away, 
for God will be All in all." 

(The state of spiritual rest in God is begun on earth, and the instances 
are frequent, in churches, see Acts 2: 47, and pious individuals, such as 
Arndt. Spener, Francke, in which God has erected his tabernacle among 
men, and moved about, as a Friend and Father, in solemn stillness.) 



176 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



NOTE F, Page 133. 

Like all other writers, Tholuck has his favorite ideas, which he is apt to 
repeat in a varied form. The scenes of the Saviour's life are among his 
select topics, and the reader will at once see the resemblance between the 
following descriptions, and some of those in the sermon to which this note 
refers. 

" From the instant of the Saviour's resurrection, when he left mortality 
behind him in the tomb, he belonged to the earth no more. While he had 
previously been the constant companion of his disciples, living with them 
as a father with his children, he now appears to them but occasionally, and 
in divers places. Where he now abides they do not ask him. They ask 
him not and we know not. That he would return to the Father he has 
often taught them ; and they may therefore have concluded, that even at 
this time he made his abode with his Father. He has assembled them for 
the last time in the capital city. He has said to them not a word more 
respecting himself. He has spoken with them of the kingdom of God. 
Early in the morning, at an hour when no unconsecrated eye could see him. — 
for only they, who believed in him, had beheld him since his resurrection, — 
he walks with the eleven, — the twelfth had gone to his own place, as the 
Scripture says,— through the yet silent streets of the city, — he goes out at 
the gate, and ascends with them the very mountain, whose foot had been 
moistened with the tears, yea with the bloody sweat of the now glorified man. 
Who conjectures what now passed through his God-like heart, as he stood 
on this commanding eminence and cast the earthly, human glance for the 
last time, upon the scene of his agonies, the scene of his weeping. « It is 
finished," he had exclaimed once, as he bowed his bead upon the cross : " It 
is finished," he now cries out once more. There lie at his feet eleven men, 
whom his wrestlings and his tears have taken captive as a precious prey 
from the world ; but more than eleven millions, who will lie at his feet on 
some future day, and for whom these eleven are but the small grains of seed, 
are in his prophetic view. — It is finished." 

" You all know, my hearers, of what invaluable worth is the last look of 
a departing friend. As his countenance then appeared— that is the image 
which imprints itself most deeply on the soul. Why is it unpleasant 
to stand, as one must, by the dying-bed of a friend, who is trembling 
under the cold touch of death. Ah, above all things else is it on this 
account, that the loved one will ever recur to our remembrance in 
this image of pain.. How delightful now it is to see the manner in 
which the last glance of the Saviour fell upon his chosen. It is said 
in the Gospel of Luke, that ' he lifted up his hands and blessed them, 
and as he was blessing them, he parted with them.' If an inventive fancy 
would form some conception of the mode in which the Saviour might have 
taken his departure from earth, that Saviour who broke not the bruised reed, 
nor quenched the glowing wick, could it design a more becoming, a more 



1 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 177 

beautiful picture than this ? I have already, on another occasion, asked you 

to consider how rich the Gospel history is in subjects for representation by 

the arts. This mode of the Redeemer's departure did not take place by 

accident. It is in keeping with the whole life of him, who came into the 

world not to condemn it but to make it happy. Imagine that the Saviour 

of sinners had terminated his earthly course like Elias, that preacher of 

repentance, who was carried to heaven in a chariot of fire by a tempest of 

the Lord; and you will then feel that such a termination is not consonant 

with either the beginning or the middle of the Saviour's course. We read 

of the apostles, that ; they went back to Jerusalem with great joy !' With 

joy ? With joy after their One and All had been parted from them, and 

while they were not yet certain of his revisit in the Spirit ? — Yea with > 

They had seen the hands stretched out to bless them. Where ve v ^ 

yes. — 

stood and wherever they went, the blessing; hands were before the,' , 

uiere on 

And do not we, beloved brethren, exclaim, oh that we had be- . , 

..r iriends, cro 

that we had seen them, those blessino- hands? Go tM*. * . ~> . T", 
• ■ • , „ _elebrate Christ s 

in the spirit so much the oftener to that cheenncr his^y ' . , , 

i , ^ , , .ri ^n sorrowing and al- 

ascension m your hearts. And wherever ye beb jJU ^ s 

ways grieved, there show them these bles c '- i = ^3 lUs ' ' ■ PP* > 

125,129,130. . 

TU , .„ , . resermlance between the mam idea 

The reader will at once perceive tH" reser « 

of Tholuck's sermon on the gent^ ess of Christ ' and the paSSagS 
taken from the close of MilniV s Fa]1 ^ Jerusalem. 

» Thou w^ born of woman > thou did ' st come ' 
O H* liest ' to wor ^ °^ sm and gl° om ' 
JYot in thj dread omnipotent array ; 

And not by thunder strow'd 

Was thy tempestuous road ; 
Nor indignation burned before thee on thy way. 
But thee, a soft and naked child, 
Thy mother undefiled, 
In the rude manger laid to rest 
From off her virgin breast. 

The heavens were not commanded to prepare 

A gorgeous canopy of golden air ; 

Nor stoop'd their lamps th' enthroned fires on high; 

A single silent star 

Came wand'ring from afar, 
Gliding uncheck'd and calm along the liquid sky ; 
The Eastern sages leading on, 
As at a kingly throne, 
To lay their gold and odors sweet 
Before thy infant feet. 
23 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



The earth and ocean were not hush'd to hear 
Bright harmony from ev'ry starry sphere ; 
Nor at thy presence brake the voice of song 

From all the cherub choirs, 

And seraphs' burning lyres 
Pour'd through the host of Heav'n the charmed clouds along 
One angel troop the strain began, 
Of all the race of man, 
By simple shepherds heard alone, 
That soft Hosanna's tone. 



And when thou didst depart, no car of flame 
To bear thee hence in lambent radiance came ; 
l^ar visible angels mourn'd with drooping plumes ; 
Nor didst thou mount on high 

Wit Fl °^ fatal Calvary > 

n tniu own redeem'd out-bursting from their tombs 

box thoiUidst-DL r 

Uc, r a . fj . om earln 

But one of h, man Difh J 

The dying felony thy' ; d to be 

In paradise with tho e . 



No, o'er thy cross the clouds of vengea , ce brea , 
A little while the conscious earth i\d sna kt. 
At that foul deed by her fierce childrt n done ; 

A few dim hours of day, 

The world in darkness lay, 
Then bask'd in bright repose beneath the cloud! 
While thou didst sleep beneath the tomb, 
Consenting to thy doom, 
Ere yet the white-robed Angel shone 
Upon the sealed stone. 



And when thou didst arise, thou didst not stand 
With devastation in thy red right hand, 
Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew ; 

But thou didst haste to meet 

Thy mother's coming feet, 
And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few : 
Then calmly, slowly didst thou rise 
Into thy native skies, 
Thy human form dissolved on high 
In its own radiancy." 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 179 

NOTE G, Page 134. 

This sermon was preached at the commencement of a new term, (half- 
year, semester), in the University at Halle. The title which Tholuck gives 
it is, ; < Why do our resolutions remain so frequently without results." The 
following is its analysis. 

Introduction ; discouraging influence of hroken resolves ; power of 
Christianity to secure adherence to our resolutions; p. 134. Text; ex- 
planation; p. 135. Division; reluctance to humble ourselves; p. 136. 
Comparison between humility of mind, and the death of the body ; reproof 
of Christians ; p. 137. Insincerity, and want of particularity in confessing 
sin ; p. 138. Sins should be confessed before God, and chiefly in view of 
having been committed against him ; distinctive mark of a Christian ; 
meaning of the term religion ; p. 139. Humility in view of having sinned 
against God has great power ; importance of secret prayer ; p. 140. Our 
humility should be accompanied with faith ; happiness not the first duty of 
the Christian, but consequent upon faith and love, which are the first 
duties; p. 141. True humility cheerful, illustrated by examples; p. 142. 
Conclusion ; pp. 142 — 3. 

NOTE H, Page 135. 

" Before I was humbled," gedemiithigt. Luther and De Wette give the 
same translation. The Vulgate also gives ' humiliarer,' and the Septuagint, 
TaTttivta&ijvai. The word humbled is however, in this place, equivocal ; ^.s 
it may refer the renewed obedience of David, either to previous suffering of 
body or mind, or to the grace of humility, which was followed by that of 
faithful obedience. That the former is the right shade of meaning is 
probable from the facts in David's history (if he wrote this Psalm), and from 
such parallel passages as Ps. 116: 10. 119: 71, 75, etc. See Gesenius on the 
word nsy , which he translates in this passage by afnietus, depressus, 
oppressus est; and De Wette, Com. on Ps., p. 522, where he says ' adversity 
(unglilck) had benefitted the poet,' and considers the passage parallel with 
Ps. 118: 18, 'the Lord hath chastened me sore,' etc. Tholuck's idea of 
the passage, as developed in the progress of his sermon, includes both the 
idea of our English translation, that of being 1 afflicted,' oppressed with 
pain, and also that of being penitent in view of sin. His application of the 
words does not seem to be precisely correct. 

NOTE I, Page 143. 

The following is the analysis of the fourth sermon.— Introduction ; 
insufficiency of reasons from nature for believing in the immortality of the 
soul; p. 143. The resurrection of Christ the great argument; proposition 
of the discourse ; text; division; p. 144. Contrast between the trembling 
spirit of a servant and the praying spirit of a child; case of the Israelites ; 
importance of trembling; p. 145. Prayer is the evidence of our adoption ; 



180 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



what kind of prayer ; whence arising ; how excited ; grounds on which 
God hears it ; illustrations ; pp. 146, 147. How is this prayer expressed ; 
nature of prayer; praying without intermission ; true mode of prayer illus- 
trated ; p. 148. Happy effects of prayer ; how a pledge of future life ; how 
is the transformation of the heart from flesh to spirit a pledge ; p. 149. 
Practical appeal ; how is the transformation of the heart from spiritual death 
to spiritual life a pledge of future blessedness ; joy of a devoted Christian ; 
pp. 150, 151. Practical appeal to unfaithful and faithful Christians; to 
sinners ; conclusion ; pp. 152, 153. 

NOTE K, Page 143. 
This sermon was preached in the autumn of the year 1833, on the reli- 
gious festival observed by the Lutheran church in memory of the dead. 
Hence the allusions to the scenery of nature, etc., in the Introduction. It 
may be here remarked, that Tholuck disapproves of such papal festivities as 
these ; but avails himself of their observance, as a means, furnished by the 
prejudices and customs of the people, of exciting a class of sentiments and 
feelings which the usual services of the sanctuary leave dormant. Many 
of his brethren defend the observance, as peculiarly fitted to exert a salutary 
influence on the religious sensibilities, to strengthen the belief in the soul's 
immortality, and enliven the hope of the resurrection of the dead. Its 
tendency, however, to be abused, to be celebrated with undue pomp, to be 
regarded as a means of benefitting the dead, to enthrone mere humanity in 
the place of the Deity , is admitted by the more considerate of its advocates. 
For a notice of the solemnity, see Augusti's Handbuch der Christ. Archaeol- 
ogie, Vol. III. pp. 285, 286. 

NOTE L, Page 146. 

The expression, * tasting the powers of the world to come,' is frequently 
used by Tholuck as equivalent to, 1 experiencing the powerful influence of 
those truths which are connected with eternity and heaven.' The word 
'tasted,' in the passage (Heb. 6: 5) from which the expression is taken, ap- 
pears to be synonymous with 1 experienced,' < fully experienced ;' see 1 Pet. 
2: 3. Heb. 2: 9. Prov. 31: 18, and other passages ; the phrase ' powers of the 
world to come,' appears to signify the miraculous powers given to the early 
Christians, and which attested the truth of their religious system. That 
such is sometimes the meaning of the word dvrautg, see Mark 6: 14. Acts 6: 
8. 10: 38. Heb. 2: 4. That the word Alwv may denote the new dispensation 
of Christ, see Robinson's Lex. on the word : 2. b. ($. The literal translation 
then should be, 1 miraculous powers of the dispensation which was to come.' 
See Stuart on Heb., Vol. II. pp. 16, 66, 68, 142—4. 

NOTE M, Page 150. 

In Tholuck's first Vol. (1834) of sermons, there are two on the 13th chap- 
ter of 1 Cor., which exhibit the peculiarities of his feeling on his favorite 
theme, christian love. The following are extracts. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



181 



il What is love ? It is the struggling of your soul to give up every thing 
of value which you have, as a sacrifice to the beloved object, to empty your- 
self of your own self, and to become full of the being you love, and of all 
his fullness. You have often seen how earthly affection, which is 
but an image, and sometimes but a caricature of the everlasting love, 
seeks to become full of the beloved object ; how every sensibility is 
excited to obtain this fulness; the eye, the ear, the hand, the whole 
spirit long to be full; yea even the mouth is open to take in the breath of 
the loved one. Oh ye who hang with all the fibres of your system upon 
a creature of God, and long after that creature, have you ever longed in 
the same way after your Creator ? Why do you not learn what is the bles- 
sedness of the faithful one, when his inmost soul lies spread out in holy 
prayer before God ; when the eye lingers upon the distant, deep, clear 
heaven, the fairest emblem of the bonndlessness, the serenity, and the mag- 
nificence of that love which first loved us ; when his ear takes in no earthly 
sound ; and only this solitary feeling lives in his soul, — oh thou Eternal One, 
thou art ! At that moment he sinks into the Deity ; — " I in him, thou in me, 
let thyself but find me, and I vanish away within thee." Not that by such 
an affectionate surrender to the Eternal One, the Christian's personal 
identity ceases; no, his spirit is rightly manifested and developed rather, by 
his reception of this everlasting, unfolding, illuminating and enlivening 
power of love." pp. 123, 124. 

After saying that at death faith shall pass away into vision, and with it 
hope ; for there shall then be no more a future, but there shall be an eternal 
present, he proceeds, — " But love shall remain. Yea, not only shall it re- 
main, but the narrow brook which in this life flowed from deeply hidden 
fountains, will in that life become a wide stream. Here love could be pre- 
served only while the eye of faith held the invisible world directly before 
itself. Try it, shut for an instant this internal eye, look at nothing but the 
visible world, and thou wilt love only what thou seest. Ah, why dost thou 
hang solely upon the creatures of earth, and long after them ; why but be- 
cause thine eye of faith is not open, and thou seest not the invisible glory 
of the Father's image ? Couldst thou see this, thou must love it also : to 
see the invisible and to love him is the same thing. But when there shall 
be no more need of this intellectual exertion, when the thick cloud of the 
earthly vale shall no longer press upon the eye of* faith, when the very ob- 
ject in which we here faintly believe, shall stand constantly before our 
vision, oh how easy will it then be to love. The death of the believer shall 
be the death also of his faith and hope, but it shall be the resurrection hour 
of his love. 

This is the reason which the apostle gives us, why among the first three 
virtues, charity stands the very first. Yet seeing that it will remain forever, 
it exhibits itself also in another relation as the first of the virtues. Love is 
the state of mind in which faith is produced, and in which it is perfected. 

First, it is the state in which faith is produced. Let me recal your at- 
tention to what has been previously advanced, that as all matter is attracted 



182 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



by a mysterious power to its central point, so likewise in the realm of spirits 
there is a resistless power, the power of love, which attracts to the Father 
all spirits which have come forth from him. In every heart of man even 
the darkest, there lies hidden under a thousand coverings of night a holy 
seed of love toward God. (See Bibl. Repository, Vol. VIII. pp. 327, 328). 
What is it that allows you to find no rest in any of the inclinations of or- 
dinary life ? What is it that allows you no repose anywhere on the bosom 
of created nature ? What is it that leaves you constantly to exclaim, oh 1 
must have something further by which my soul may be satisfied ? — Brother, 
this is the holy seed of love to God, which is swelling within thee, and will 
force its way through all the coverings of night. Thou knowest not what 
thou seekest, but yet thou dost seek With inextinguishable thirst. Some 
prophet-voices sound o\\t to thee, and preach of an everlasting good in 
which thy soul can repose. This longing of thy soul urgeth thee to an act 
of faith ; for alas the hungry man must believe that there is bread for him. 
Lo, thine undeveloped love toward the Source of all good becometh in this 
way, the very state of mind, which causeth thee to believe in things invisible. 
And when the dark impulse of thy love hath given to thee an assurance that 
there must be a kingdom of the spirit and of the truth, in which thou canst 
find repose, oh then he who is the King of the land of truth, needeth but to 
step before thine eyes, and with the assurance of faith thou tallest down 
before his feet. Wherever there is an assurance, that there must be a land 
of truth which maketh blessed, there faith in the King of that land is a very 
easy act. Behold, in this undeveloped love is illustrated that great senti- 
ment, which may have been already often repeated to you. — s The things 
that belong to men, must be understood in order that they may be loved ; 
the things that belong to God, must be loved in order that they may be 
understood.' (These words are from Paschal.) 

But, secondly, faith is also perfected in love. The greater the certainty 
of the object of our affection, so much the more heartfelt is our surrender to 
it ; the more heartfelt our surrender, so much the richer is our ex- 
perience ; the richer our experience, so much the more vivid is the 
certainty of the object. Thus you see in the aged disciples of the Lord, 
to whom an experience of seventy years has made certain what they 
believed, how familiar they are with invisible things, as familiar as if 
these things lay before their eyes ; how they scarcely need to say, 1 I be- 
lieve,' but have almost the certainty of vision. Yea more, that elevated 
passage of the apostle is fulfilled in them; — ' There is reflected from us, with 
unveiled face, the glory of the Lord, and we are transformed into the same 
image from one glory to another, as by the Spirit of the Lord.' Thou wert 
sitting in a dark dungeon under the earth, and in thy heart was an inclina- 
tion for the light. This inclination was a prophecy for thee, that there 
must be a light; and thou didst believe that there was one, even before its 
mild shining came to thine eyes. Thus love created faith. Through a 
small chink there came into thy dungeon messengers from the mild light : 
and they greeted thee as a friend ; thou gavest thyself up to them, and the 



i 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 183 

reception of these few rays made thy certainty so much the stronger that 
there must be a sun. Thus faith is perfected in love. Thou shalt one day 
come forth from the dark dungeon, the full sun shall pour forth all its beams 
upon thy face ; with all thy sensibilities thou shalt cherish this light within 
thee; thou shalt have full experience how this light is the light of life. 
Thy perfect experience in love will perfect thy faith. And this perfection 
of faith will also be the end of it ; for, in its perfection, it will vanish away 
as faith, and will pass into vision, just as the blossoms disappear in the 
fruit." pp. 128—131. 

.NOTE N, Page 150. 

" Vvnat is it, but a plan for the elevation of human nature to a likeness 
with God?" The literal translation would be, what is it other than a 
deification (eine Vergottlichung) of the human nature according to the image 
of Jesus Christ. The employment of such bold phraseology°would be de- 
fended by Tholuck, by a reference to such passages as 2 Pet. 1: 4. Heb. 3: 
14. 6: 4. John 17: 21—23. 1 Cor. 6: 8, and numerous others. 

NOTE O, Page 151. 

The words of Inspiration, to which reference is here made, are connected 
so intimately with the whole course of reasoning on pages 149— 152, that 
some remarks on these words, and on the train of argument to which' they 
give rise, here and in other passages of Tholuck, may not be inappropriate. 
It is a course of refined reasoning to which Tholuck seems rather peculiarly 
attached. It is composed of such elementary principles as these : What a 
reasonable being commences he will continue ; a partial fulfilment of a 
promise indicates its complete fulfilment ; the desires that God has implant- 
ed within us are an indication that he will gratify them; the agreement of 
witnesses with each other is an evidence of the veracity of each of 
them ; etc. 

The following is the train of reasoning and of appeal to Christian sentiment, 
which Tholuck frequently pursues. He supposes that our Saviour in John 
5: 21—29 speaks first, verse 21, of both resurrections, the spiritual and the 
physical ; then, verses 22, 24, 25, of the spiritual resurrection alone, and 
afterward, verses 28,29, of the physical alone. Tholuck represents con- 
version as the beginning of the resurrection era, as the first step of that 
process which is terminated by the raising of the body from the grave,— see 
Rom. 8: 10,11; and sees therefore a peculiar propriety in ou^ Saviour's 
combining, m his discourse, allusions to the beginning and the end of this 
resuscitative agency of God. He says, that to one who has been made a 
partaker of the first, i. e. the spiritual resurrection, < there is no difference 
in point of fact between this world and the world to come;' such an one is 
regarded by God < as glorified for all eternity, Rom. 8: 30;' he has already 
received the life, which is to be perfected in heaven and to constitute heaven 
John 4: 14. 6: 58 ;-he is not to pass from death to life, for this he has done, 
1 John 3: 14, but only from a lower to a higher degree of life. Christ de- 



184 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



dares then, John 5: 25, that under the preaching of the Gospel, sinners 
i s hall hear the voice of the Son of God,' i. e. obtain an internal perception 
or apDrehension of the truth ; and under the influence of the truth thus 
apprehended the dead shall live/' i. e. sinners shall be converted, transla- 
ted from the kingdom of death to that of life. Having already been thus 
translated from death to life, at the moment of conversion, they have already 
obtained heaven, not indeed in its fulness but in its essential characteristic. 
They are sure of eternal life, because they are even conscious of it as al- 
ready commenced in their souls. The prediction that they shall have life 
is already in part fulfilled, and thereby warrants the expectation of an entire 
fulfilment. There is an exact coincidence between the testimony of Scripture 
on the subject of eternal life and the testimony of the Christians feeling ; 
and the coincidence of the two indicates the credibility of the scriptural 
promises. As the Christian feels the promised life in his own soul even 
now. he instinctively expects, without evidence to the contrary, that this 
life will continue, just as he expects, without evidence to the contrary, that 
the laws of the universe will continue. These seem to be the elementary 
principles of the second argument ; that on pp. 150—15*2. 

The first argument, that on pp. 149, 150, is of the same character. It has 
had an influence on many minds which denied its logical authority. It is 
an appeal to a constitutional feeling, which cannot be reasoned away more 
than it can be excited by reasoning. As the longing after immortality has 
inspired manv a heathen with a strong hope for it, and expectation of it, so 
the consciousness of an impatience to find rest in God, and of an inability to 
find rest out of God, the strong drawing forth of the affections toward him, 
the desire of an intimacy, a oneness with him, has itself caused many a 
Christian to expect the blessedness that was so intensely craved. Did God 
implant this desire onlv to disappoint it? See this principle beautifully 
illustrated in Tholuck's Sermons, Vol. I p. 31. And again, the harmony 
between the spiritual views of the renewed man and the doctrines of the 
Gospel, between his spiritual feelings and the promises of the Gospel, is in 
itself an argument in favor of the fulfilment of those promises,— as the 
coincidence^ two distinct testimonies is an independent argument for the 
correctness of each of them. This spirituality of emotion is also felt to be a 
specimen of what is promised, the first fruits of the harvest, & pledge that the 
divine revelation will not disappoint the believer. It is felt to be so, even 
when the feeling cannot be defended by any logical formula. Every child 
knows the force" of the argument derived from an ' earnest,' a ' foretaste.' 
When favors are promised him and he actually receives some of them, he 
feels renewed confidence in the sincerity of the whole promise. When 
great preparations are made, he anticipates some correspondent results. 
~ These elementarv principles, when examined one by one, do not seem so 
loaicallv convincing, as they axe felt to be when exhibited collectively in an 
argument. See the application of some of them in Rom. 5: 5—11. Phil. 1: 
6. 2 Cor. 1: 22. 5: 5. Gal. 1: 13, 14. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



185 



NOTE P, Page 153. 

Appended to the volume containing this sermon, is one of the hymns 
which was sung, when the sermon was delivered ; and appended to the 
hymn is the following note. " This is the second time that this hymn has 
been sung at the University church-service, to the very excellent tune com- 
posed by the music-director Mr. Naue. to whose interested zeal the liturgical 
part of divine worship is on all occasions very much indebted. The im- 
pression, especially that which was made by the last words, as sung by the 
University-choir alone, will be forgotten by no one." p. 173. An American 
clergyman, present on the occasion, says, " It was impossible to refrain from 
tears, when at the seventh stanza, all the trumpets ceased, and the choir, ac- 
companied by a softened tone of the organ, sung these touching lines, 
' Quid sum miser tunc dicturus ?" etc. The hymn referred to is part of the 
Catholic requiem, or mass for the souls of the dead. It is the '■' Dies lrae," 
composed by Thomas von Celano, a Minorite, about the year 1250. It has 
been set to music by Mozart, and several other composers, and has been 
translated into several different languages. Goethe has introduced a few 
stanzas of it into his Faust ; and Scott, a few into his Lay of the Last 
Minstrel, p. 150, Bost. Ed., see Church Ps. Hymn 629. But no translation 
has equalled or can equal the original Latin. As this is not accessible to 
the mass of readers, it is given below, accompanied with the best literal 
translation of it into English, which we have seen. See Christian Observer, 
Vol. XXVI, p. 26. 



Dies irae, dies ilia 
Solvet saeclum in favilla, 
Teste David cum Sibylla. 

Quantus tremor est futurus, 
Quando Judex est venturus, 
Cuncta stricte discussurus ! 

Tuba minim spargens sonum, 
Per sepulchra regionum, 
Coget omnes ante thronum. 

Mors stupebit, et natura, 
Cum resurget creatura, 
Judicanti responsura. 

Liber scriptus proferetur, 
In quo totum continetur, 
Unde mundus judicetur. 

24 



On that great, that awful day, 
This vain world shall pass away. 
Thus the Sybil sung of old ; 
Thus hath holy David told. 
There shall be a deadly fear 
When the Avenger shall appear, 
And, unveiled before his eye, 
All the works of man shall lie ! 

Hark! to the great trumpet's tones, 
Pealing o'er the place of bones. 
Hark ! it waketh from their bed 
All the nations of the dead, 
In a countless throng to meet 
At the eternal judgment seat. 
Nature sickens with dismay : 
Death may not retain his prey ; 
And before the Maker stand 
All the creatures of his hand. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



Judex ergo cum sedebit, 
Quidquid latet apparebit, 
Nil inultum rernanebit. 

Quid sum miser tunc dicturus, 
Quem patron um rogaturus, 
Cum vix justus sit securus ? 

Rex tremenda? majestatis, 
Qui salvandos salvas gratis, 
Salva me, Fons pietatis. 

Recordare, Jesu pie, 
Quod sum causa tuas via3 
Ne me perdas ilia die. 

Quserens me, sedisti lassus, 
Redemisti crucem passus : 
Tantus labor non sit cassus. 

Juste judex ultionis, 
Donum fac remissionis, 
Ante diem rationis. 

Ingemisco tanquam reus, 
Culpa rubet vultus meus : 
Supplicanti parce, Deus. 

Qui Mariam absolvisti, 
Et latronem exaudisti, 
Mihi quoque spem dedisti. 

Preces mese non sunt dignae, 
Sed tu, bone, fac benigne, 
Ne perenni cremer igne ! 

Inter oves locum praesta, 
Et ab hsedis me sequestra, 
Statuens in parte dextra. 

Confutatis maledictis, 
Flammis acribus addictis, 
Voca me cum benedictis. 

Oro tristis, et acclinis, 
Cor contritum quasi cinis : 
Gere curam mei finis. 



The great book shall be unfurled, 
Whereby God shall judge the world 
What was distant shall be near; 
What was hidden shall be clear. 

To what shelter shall 1 fly ? 
To what guardian shall 1 cry ? 
Oh in that destroying hour, 
Source of goodness, Source of power 
Show thou, of thine own free grace, 
Help unto a helpless race. 

Though I plead not at thy throne 
Aught that 1 for thee have done, 
Do not thou unmindful be 
Of what thou hast borne for me ; 
Of the wandering, of the scorn, 
Of the scourge, and of the thorn. 

Jesus, hast thou borne the pain ; 
And hath all been borne in vain ? 
Shall thy vengeance smite the head 
For whose ransom thou hast bled? 
Thou whose dying blessing gave 
Glory to a guilty slave ; 
Thou who from the crew unclean 
Didst release the Magdalene ; 
Shall not mercy vast and free 
Evermore be found in thee ? 

Father, turn on me thine eyes : 
See my blushes, hear my cries ; 
Faint though be the prayers I make, 
Save me, for thy mercy's sake, 
From the torments of thine ire, 
From the worm and from the fire ; 
Fold me with the sheep that stand 
Pure and safe at thy right hand. 
Hear thy guilty child implore thee, 
Rolling in the dust before thee. 
Oh the horrors of the day 
When this frame of sinful clay, 
Starting from its burial place, 
Must behold thee face to face. 
Hear and pity ; hear and aid ; 
Spare the creatures thou hast made. 
Mercy, mercy ! save, forgive ; 
Or who shall look on Thee and live 



It 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 187 

Lacrymosa die ilia Judicandus homo reus, 

Qua resurget ex favilla. Huic ergo parce, Deus. 



NOTE Q, Page 154. 

This discourse Tholuck in his index calls a homily. His reviewer however 
in the Stud, und Krit, Vol. VIII. p. 245, objects to this designation ; because 
the sermon is as regular and strictly logical in its plan as any other, and the 
main idea of a homily as distinct from a sermon , is that it embraces a variety 
of dissimilar trains of thought, which though loosely connected are yet re- 
duced into some unity of arrangement. The analysis is as follows. 

Text ; division; p. 154. First, the reproaches and indignities which Christ 
suffered, are a means of illustrating his character, and an argument for the 
elevating truth, that God's providence and government are universal; pp. 
354, 155. Secondly, the faith which the penitent thief exercised in Christ, 
at the time of Christ's lowest humiliation, is a reproof to us for our want of 
faith, at the time of Christ's exaltation; pp. 155,157, 158. Causes and 
process of the malefactor's faith ; p. 157. Peculiar reasons for faith in 
modern times; pp. 157, 158. Thirdly, the mode in which the repentance 
of a sinner at the end of life is liable to be abused by his survivors ; p. 158. 
Folly of deferring repentance to a future period ; p. 15 ( J. Fourthly, the 
mercy of God in pardoning a sinner at the termination of a wicked life, is a 
source of rich consolation, p. 160. The sad state of one, who has passed all 
hope of salvation ; illustrates by contrast the happy state of those who still 
enjoy opportunities for obtaining heaven ; pp. 160, 161, Conclusion; p. 161. 

MOTE R, Page 158. 

Perhaps there is no one particular, in which the discourses of Tholuck ap- 
pear to be more happily conformed to the apostolical standard, than in their 
frequent and rich development of the nature and value of faith. This grace 
they everywhere exhibit as a peculiarity of evangelical religion. It is to be 
feared that its distinctive nature is too much overlooked in the American 
pulpit; and that it is too often merged into the generic duty of obedience, or 
love to God. A dignified and distinguishing characteristic of evangelical 
religion is thus neglected; and the variety of several specific duties is sacri- 
ficed to the monotony of a single general one. The following are a few of 
Tholuck's many illustrations of Christian faith. 

" The faith of the Holy Scriptures is an undoubted certainty of that which 
man cannot see. We have five senses, by which the visible world comes be- 
fore our observation. Faith is a new sense, a new eye, by which the in- 
visible world comes before our observation. Whoever has this eye of faith 
walks among objects distinctly perceived by him, but unperceived by others. 
The mind that has faith understands what the Christmas morning is, and 
the cradle with the child of God ; what the Easter morning is, with the 
Prince of life who has overcome death ; what the Ascension morning is, with 



188 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



the Captain of our salvation, elevated to the right hand of the Father, so 
that he may prepare a place for us ; what the opened heaven is, and the 
glory of the throne of God, with the thousand of thousands of his holy 
angels; what the rent veil of the ab_yss is, and the uncovered deep, where 
the worm gnaws that never dies. The world say of such a man, he is a 
fanatic; will you be angry with them for saying so? You cannot — you 
cannot be angry with the blind man because he does not see what you see. 
But truly they should not deny, that there is another sense, besides those 
five senses of which they are conscious — a sense of which John testifies, 
' He hath given unto us a faculty that we should discern him who is true :' 
1 John 5: 20. You perceive then how rich you are made by faith. You 
often say, 1 ah poor blind men ! over the heaven and upon the earth is so 
great glory spread out, and you can perceive none of it, — ah, by the whole 
world are you poorer than we." Vol. 1. p. 120. 

" The certainty which, through faith, we now have of the invisible world, 
is a certainty that stands opposed to every thing lying before our visual 
sense. The chain of cause and effect pervades the immensity of all created 
things and seems to give a reason and ground for every event that occurs. 
But you must believe that the last link of this chain hangs upon the 
invisible finger of the Father of Jesus Christ ; and that it is his invisible 
breath which sets all the links in motion. As kings and lords of destiny, 
the children of men seem to walk over the earth ; according to his own 
mere pleasure, the insolent monarch hurls thousands into the abyss of 
wretchedness; unconstrained, the father of lies moves with his children 
through the world, and scatters his seeds of tares by day as well as by night; 
and yet thou shouldst have faith, that from every head and every hand an 
invisible cord goeth up to the clouds, and that all these cords run together 
into the hand of eternal wisdom and righteousness ; thou shouldst believe, that 
above all this lamentation and confusion and strife a kingsitteth enthroned, 
who can say at any instant to the swelling waves, ' thus far and no farther.' 
Here thou beholdest him, who had not where he might lay his head ; and 
tiiou must have faith that the reins of the government of the world lie in 
his perforated hand. Here thou beholdest the Son of man, whom human 
beings smite in the face, and upon whose sacred head they press the crown 
of thorns, and thou must believe that under his unsightly apparel the thun- 
ders of heaven repose. Thou seest that the disciples of him who promised 
to his own, that they should judge the angels, wander over the earth like 
other children of earth, their brow covered with sweat, and the tear in their 
eye ; and thou must believe with full assurance, that if we suffer with him, 
so shall we also reign with him. The course of human events is a dark 
enigma of syllables ; one and another syllable of it thou mayest solve, but 
the whole word no one can decipher. How hard it is for the eye, upon 
which presses the cloud of this earthly vale, to raise itself upward ; oh how 
often is poor man, who ought to be superior to all finite things, weary even 
with holy services ! This kind of assurance, wmich believers have of the 
upper world, shall one day cease. What thou hast believed, thou shalt one 
day see : as thou hast expected so shall be the actual fact.— Thou shalt see 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



189 



how all the strings from all hearts and all heads run together into one 
heavenly hand ; thou shalt see the Holy One of God, who here wore the crown 
of thorns, wear the crown of heaven ; thou shalt see those, who sowed with 
tears, reap and bind their sheaves with joy ; thou shalt see those who had 
not where they might lay their head, sitting at the royal wedding feast, at 
the right and the left of the Son of man. As the poet says, " The inward 
life of the Christian is resplendent, although its splendor is veiled by his 
earthly condition. What the King of heaven hath given to him, is known 
to no one but himself What no one can feel, what no one can touch, 
embellishes his enlightened mind, and raises it to a God-like dignity." Vol. 
I. pp. 125, 6, 7. 

Faith and hope and charity, the chief of the Christian virtues " make a 
concord of three tones, which exhibits an analogy to the divine Three in 
One. Faith, which is the firm conviction respecting that whole realm which 
lies above the senses, corresponds with the original ground of the Godhead, 
from which every thing has proceeded ; that is, with the Father. Hope 
corresponds with the Holy Ghost, who will one day conduct everything 
within us to its completion. Love corresponds wjth him, by whom and in 
whom the original occult ground of the Godhead, with its whole fulness, 
has come near unto men and through all eternity will communicate itself 
to them. So likewise among the apostles, each tone of this holy concord 
has found its own representative. Paul is the preacher of faith, John is the 
preacher of love, and Peter in the first of his Epistles is the preacher of hope. 
All however without distinction, Peter and James not excepted, give the 
chief praise to love." Vol. I. p. 124. 

NOTE S, Page 161. 

Thisd iscourse also Tholuck denominates a homily ; though the arrange- 
ment of its thoughts is synthetic, and more conformed to the rules for a 
sermon, than that of the majority of his discourses: see Stud, und Krit., 
Vol. VIII. p. 245. 

The above-named reviewer of Tholuck's sermons cites the passage on pp. 
164, 5, beginning with < The Holy, the Unknown,' ending with < everlasting 
life,' as a distinctive illustration of our author's style. The following is the 
analysis of this discourse. 

Introduction ; comparison between the state of the anxious, and that of 
the careless sinner; pp. 161, 2. Text ; does God or man take the first step 
in the renovation of the heart; p. 162. Division; how does God display 
himself to man in the work of creation ; happiness of living with the heart- 
felt recognition, misery of living without such a recognition of the creating 
and preserving love of God ; pp. 163, 4. God becomes intelligible in Christ; 
our own characters also become intelligible in him; pp. 164,5. Ne- 
cessity of the Spirit's influences; nearness of the Spirit to man; 
utility of his instructions; p. 166. The will of man must cooperate 
with the agency of the Spirit ; importance of solitary meditation on the love 



190 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



of God; p. 167. Importance of studying the Bible, especially the history 
of Christ; p. 168. Importance of cherishing the influences of the Spirit; 
of praying to the Spirit; pp. 168, 9. Reflex influence of supplication upon 
the heart of the suppliant; exhortation to prayer as a means of exciting the 
proper spirit of prayer; p. 169. Conclusion; p. 170. 

NOTE T, Page 162. 

One object in translating this discourse has been to exhibit the manner in 
which Tholuck, in unison with other evangelical divines on the continent, 
exhorts the unregenerate to perform certain duties, which are not only 
anterior to, but conditions of the renovating influence of the Spirit. It is 
common to charge the American divines, who recommend ' unregenerate 
doings,' with recommending a sinful course of effort as essential to subse- 
quent holiness. But the peculiar philosophy of Tholuck must exempt him 
from the charge of exhorting to sin, as a means of good. His philosophy is 
here styled peculiar, not in its relation to that of his own countrymen, nor 
to that of some evangelical divines in Great Britain, Jeremy Taylor for ex- 
ample, nor to that of many of the Fathers in the Latin and the Greek 
church ; for these have adopted the same philosophy : but it is styled 
peculiar, in its relation to the prevailing philosophy of American divines. 
Tholuck supposes, that the deep depravity of our race does not preclude the 
existence of good inclinations in the heart, but rather that it consists in the 
entire subjugation of these good inclinations to the evil; that regeneration is 
the restoring of the rightful authority and predominance to the good over 
the evil ; that the work of regeneration is performed by the Spirit in com- 
pliance with the desires and yearnings of the good principle, as it struggles 
under the oppression of the bad ; and that the unregenerate, overpowered 
sinner is bound to do all that in the nature of the case he can do, that is, 
contend against the principle which enslaves him, and cry for deliverance to 
that Power which will re-organize the inner man, and fortify the good in- 
clinations against the evil. These unregenerate strugglings are of course 
not the immediate condition of eternal life, but of the commencement of the 
spiritual life ; they are not saving acts, but pre-requisite to such as are 
saving; they are not sinful, neither are they neutral ; they are positively 
good, and pleasing to Jehovah, and yet are destitute of that ' new life,' that 
mysterious ' new principle,' which is the creation of the Spirit alone, and 
which, in the established economy of grace, is the indispensable condition 
of future blessedness. 1 Christ teaches,' says Tholuck, ' that there is indeed 
a truth lying at the base of deism, inasmuch as deism maintains that there is in 
the heart of man a divine voice, or revelation implanted by God, — that there 
is something there akin to God;' i instead of a will, single and in uni- 
son with the divine will, man has a divided volition, which acts feebly 
in concert with God, but whose strongest impulses are selfish and 
arbitrary ;' ' when with firm decision conscience holds rigorous duty 
up to man, there is a secret stirring which moves him to its performance, 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



191 



but an unbridled lust, which lies at its side, starts up like a Cyclop, awaking 
from his sleep and demanding gratification < my higher I, (my feeble in- 
clination of the heart toward God ), 1 my proper I (it is here acknowledged 
that the root of man is God-like, that evil is not the substance of his being), 
is on the side of the divine law, so that the evil I do is done by that over- 
powering, blind impulse within me, which as a trespasser has obtruded itself 
into my God-like nature ;' ; I will always to do good (according to the self- 
denying, God-like but feebler inclination of my will), but I am not able,' 
' human nature is a frightful region of night, over which, as over the 
plains of Baku, low sacred flames of fire run ;.' ' the drawing of the Father, 
spoken of in John 6: 44, consists in the divine voice of ~the soul, which be- 
comes audible in the longing after a union with God;' 4 it depends upon 
the determination of the will, whether this drawing becomes effectual ;' 1 in 
the words of Theophylact, As the magnet does not attract everything, but 
only iron, so there must be in man a certain state of mind, (that is, he must 
not suppress the divine incitements within) , if the attractions of God are to 
be efficacious.' 

From the point of observation furnished by our philosophy, such remarks 
as the preceding may appear to some, inconsistent with the doctrines of our 
natural and entire depravity, and our complete dependence upon the gra- 
cious influences of the Spirit. But it is the prerogative of a narrow and un- 
generous mind, to strive to press the free-hearted reasonings of such a man 
as Tholuck into the mould of a philosophy, which, however true, he un- 
happily discards, and which, though important is not essential, as the 
writings of Tholuck everywhere evince, to the vitality and elastic power of 
the evangelical system. 

NOTE U, Page 162. 

The sermon immediately preceding this in the first of Tholuck's volumes, 
is on the Omnipresence of God, from Jeremiah 23: 23, Am I not a God who 
is near, and not a God who is afar off? etc. The object is to show, first, 
what the Scriptures teach concerning the omnipresence of God, and secondly, 
what feelings are excited by this doctrine, first, in the bosom of the regener- 
ate, and secondly, in the bosom of the unregenerate. Under the first 
general division are several ideas, which are here introduced, as intimately 
connected with the sermon to which this note refers, and as illustrating 
some of the peculiarities of Tholuck's habit of thought. 

" What does the Holy Scripture teach us concerning the divine omni- 
presence ? A dark consciousness of this truth has gone through all the in- 
habitants of the heathen world. They indeed did not suppose themselves to 
be surrounded, on all sides, by the Being before whom their knees bowed, 
and who, in his external manifestations, was at all times equally near them. 
From the deep vale they climbed to the mountain top, that they might ap- 
proach nearer to the all-cherishing Power, which holds and conducts the 
universe. They hastened from their homes to the distant holy places, where 



192 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



the heaven bends down lower to the suppliant. And yet none the less on 
this account did a dark consciousness say to them, that he whom they 
sought was with them, even before they went out after him. In the power 
of conscience, have all the inhabitants of the earth paid homage to the omni- 
present God. Deep in the breast is it planted, that inexplicable power — a 
spirit so mild, so dim-sighted, so delicate, which can be reduced to silence 
so easily ; and yet again, a power which whenever it raises its menacing 
finger, prostrates the affrighted mortal upon the earth. In your own breast, 
in that which you call your inmost me, it has established its throne, and still 
it accosts you from that same throne with a Thou, and you must serve it. 
How did that celestial power find its way into your inward nature ? What 
a wonder, that in this secret place of the bosom of all men who dwell on the 
earth, the mystery of the omnipresent God should have been foreboded and 
felt ! Oh that those of you, whose ear is closed to the preaching of the 
Holy Scriptures, might at least listen to those clear voices, which in the 
minstrels of the ancient Pagan world, have testified prophetically concerning 
the power of conscience, as of the omnipresent God ; ' concerning those 
primeval laws, as an old poet of Greece calls them, which have come down 
from on high, have been proclaimed from the firmament of heaven, which 
no frail human nature has devised, and which oblivion will never bury, in 
which a great God rules, whose years never fail.' Even the sacred Scrip- 
tures, my worshipping friends, instruct us to seek the omnipresent Deity, 
first, within the sanctuary of our own bosom. Is it not the consciousness of 
the inward presence of Jehovah, which led the Psalmist to say, Whither 
shall 1 flee from thy Spirit ? etc. Ps. 139: 7—10. It was the Spirit, the face 
of Jehovah, which accompanied the Psalmist in all places ; he was conscious 
of this Spirit abiding within him, whether he should ascend toward heaven, or 
make his bed in hell ; this Spirit who reproveth men for sin, this Divine 
countenance which looketh upon men with flaming eyes, went with the 
Psalmist wherever he went. — When the apostle enters Athens, he cannot 
refer, as he generally does, to that word of God, which Israel has on its roll 
of parchment ; but he refers to a yet more ancient word of God, within the 
human breast. He announces that Jehovah has made men, in order that 
they may seek after him and find him, and indeed he is not far from every 
one of us. To find the Deity, after whom they were hastening to and fro 
over all the earth, after whom they had stretched out their hands with 
longing desire upon the heights of the mountains, he directs them to their 
own bosom, where God is present without limitation of space and time. 
To what else refers that remarkable, mysterious declaration of the Lord, that 
4 whoso heareth and learneth of the Father cometh unto me ;' (that is, whoso 
attendeth to the voice speaking within him, which is the voice of the pres- 
ent God, is united to God ; see Tholuck on John 6: 45.) Oh that the be- 
loved Father would endue me with grace, that I may rightly apply to your 
hearts this one passage at least, a passage so rich in meaning. Oh man, 
man ! how highly honored art thou, that he, who hath made heaven and 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



193 



earth will, within thee, instruct thee concerning himself. I pray you. let 
no one go to day from this house of God. without hearing it sounding in- 
cessantly in his spirit, Whoso heareth and learneth of the Father, the same 
cometh to me. According to this word of the Lord, there is an altar of 
divine revelation in every breast of man; a sacred ark|of the covenant in 
which lies the law of God, written with characters that cannot be obliterated, 
and over which the Holy One of Israel sitteth enthroned, and speaketh to 
men, and pointeth them to the Son of his love, where the grieved ones are 
refreshed/' Vol. 1. pp. 61—64. 

" The heart, which is dead to divine truth, is one to which divine truth is 
also dead. But the truth of God's omnipresence is such, that no mind, at 
least in our christian community, is entirely dead to it. There may per- 
haps be some among us, who declare with the mere lips, that they know 
nothing of the Omnipresent One, because they do not see him with their 
corporeal eyes, and cannot touch him with their hands. It is with them as 
with those fools, who do not believe in the existence of the air around them, 
because they do not see it with their eyes, and cannot grasp it with their 
hands ;. — but let the strong wind awake, and the invisible Power is suddenly 
invested with a form before their eyes ! let the strong wind awake, and the 
invisible Being assumes a form before the atheist ; and oh ! it is a form so 
mighty and so true, that everything, which in the visible world, had pre- 
viously appeared to him as a reality, now appears as a shadow ; and over 
against every shadow, there will stand before his soul nought but this 
solitary truth —there is a God. Man has power to forget only, but not to 
disbelieve that there is a Being every where present. Thus the hundreds 
and the thousands, who wander over the earth, and are content to sport in 
the radiance of the material sun, have forgotten him. But as the wretched 
one, whom to-morrow's sun-rising wakes to the gallows, slumbers for a 
while in forge tfulness, but all on a sudden rouses up, at the striking of 
the death-clock ; so the man who forgets God, suddenly awakes, as °the 
voice all at once strikes upon his ear,—' Man ! I. the Holy One of Israel, 
am." Vol. 1. pp. 67, 68. 

" There is no contradiction between the truth that God cannot be con- 
tained by the whole heaven and earth, and the truth that the sanctuary is 
the place where he dwells in an especial manner. « Draw near to me, and 
I will draw near to you.'— And again, < In the place where ye shall seek me, 
I will be found.' Is not now the house of God the place where men first 
approach him, where they seek him ? Who knows but there are some, even 
in this assembly, who have let the whole week pass away without once 
seeking their Lord in the little chamber. Here you have come together 
with minds undistracted ; here has it now become still around you ; yea 
here, the devotion which you see in the assembly and which one reads in 
the features of another, awakens your sluggish spirits. Should not God now 
come near unto you ? Yea, though you do not make a temple of your little 
chamber, yet the house of God is the temple, where he may in a peculiar 
sense be approached. 

25 



194 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



" Further, the Bible speaks of our God, as the God who is in heaven. Yet 
even on earth does it hold true, that ! in the place where ye seek me, I will 
be found.' Why do we pray, ; Thy will be done, as in heaven so likewise 
upon earth save that here upon the earth sin abides and misery, but in that 
other world those holy spirits dwell, who live forever in that state of inno- 
cence and adoration of God, in which they were created ; save also that 
those higher realms are peculiarly a temple of God, in which he dwells as 
he does nowhere else. But at the same time, throughout this description, it 
may be represented to man and made comprehensible even to the child, that 
he who, by his almighty word, sustains and conducts the earth and every 
thing therein, is himself elevated above its narrowness and defilement, — 
pure and unapproachable, even as those shining hosts of stars under whose 
pavement the clouds gather. — A little child standing under the heaven bright 
with stars, once asked its mother, — ' Dear mother, are those yonder the open 
places, which the glory of God shines through V In this way is the splen- 
dor of the Divine presence everywhere diffused, and yet at certain places it 
bursts out with especial brightness." Vol. I. pp. 64 — 66. 

NOTE V, Page 164. 

As might be expected from one of so poetical a fancy, Tholuck is fond of 
drawing religious instruction from the works of nature. There is something 
peculiarly intellectual in his mode of describing these works. The follow- 
ing is from his first volume. 

" Who can stand amid the scenes of nature on a flowery morning of 
spring, or in the starry night, without hearing the rush of that stream of 
life, which from Orion flows down to the very heart of the earth ? If thou 
perceive no other sound but that of the dark rushing of an unknown 
stream, in which thou thyself art but a single small wave, — tell me, where 
is thy courage ? — art thou not seized with a shuddering ? Oh I have often 
had, often even in early youth have I been forced to have a foreboding of an 
unlimited Power pervading the whole world, and I had no name by which 1 
could designate this Power, nor could 1 obtain sure ground for a conviction, 
that it was a Power of holiness and of love ! — But to know, yea not barely 
to know, but to believe with a full heart, and on the authority of him whose 
word is itself a pledge, — to believe that this stream is one of love and holi- 
ness, that it flows forth from the heart of him, who has given his only be- 
gotten Son for the life of the world, — oh how entirely different a hue does 
this belief give to our faith in the universal presence of the Deity." p. 67. 

The first sermon in Tholuck's fourth volume is on " the wonders of the 
grace of God in the height and in the deep ;" from Ps. 8: 3, 4. He says in 
his preface, that the sermon is but an ' echo of one contained in Dr. Chal- 
mers's excellent Astronomico-theological work.' The following extract 
will show the tenderness and pious simplicity of Tholuck's feeling in view 
of the grand and majestic in nature. 

" When now we fit out the eye with instruments, when science comes to 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



195 



our help with her observations and reckonings, how vastly do the wonders 
of heaven increase. The nebulae are discovered to be constellations, and 
each of the constellations proves to be a system of suns, and of such nebulae 
the aided eye has already numbered four thousand. The observer sees a 
hundred and sixteen thousand stars in the milky way, hastening across the 
disc of his telescope within a quarter of an hour. One of the sun's rays, ar- 
riving at our earth in eight minutes, must travel more than six years through 
lonely space, if it would arrive at Sirius. And in this unlimited multiplicity 
of movements, what an undeviating order, what a rigid law, that never disap- 
points the calculating pen of a human observer ! Yea even those wander- 
ing stars, which seem to break open their path according to their own choice, 
are not they also suspended from the arm of the Highest, and does he not 
lead them on, so that even their path may be accurately measured by observ- 
ing mortals ? — Worm of the dust as I am, I am amazed, I tremble, I adore ; 
but if 1 have no other theatre of his greatness and of his grace to look upon, 
but that in those unmeasured distances, then does my heart despond and 
break. Him who hath spread out his throne over immensity my narrow 
mind cannot comprehend. If I can behold no other spectacle for the dis- 
play of his benevolence than that immeasurable one, then I may call him 
the Infinite, but the name Father dies upon my lips. It is always imagined 
to be a very natural thing for this word Father to flow forth from the heart 
of man to his lips ; but when we place ourselves in full view of the infinity 
of the worlds of God, is it to be wondered at, that the name dies away 
abashed upon our tongue ? 

" Great are the wonders of Jehovah in the height above us ; and if we di- 
rect our eyes to this height alone, we shall necessarily despond. Before 
such an immeasurable expansion, what is this little earth? And if with all 
the living beings who walk abroad upon it, it should vanish into nothing, 
what notice would those worlds take of its disappearance ? It would be to 
them as if a small sparkling star had ceased its glistening in their horizon. 
If this earth should pass away, what would that majestic infinity of worlds 
lose in splendor ? Just what the forest loses in its magnificence, when a 
leaf shaken by the storm falls down. — Beloved, the greatness of God op- 
presses our heart, when we look only at the wonders above ; and the words 
of astonished and humble thankfulness, become also the words of doubt, 
' What is man that thou art mindful of him V Therefore let us hasten away, 
that our heart, in a narrow space, may come to itself again ; that we in the 
Infinite may find again our Father. — The more the telescope opens be- 
fore us a view into the immensity above, so much the more may it take 
away our assurance, that he who is occupied in those illimitable spaces, will 
be found in the same activity here upon the earth. But you must acknowl- 
edge, that no small part of the brightness of his glory is taken away, if he has 
called into existence so many worlds, that his sustaining and providing 
power cannot keep equal pace with his creating ; if the eye which guides 
the four thousand nebulae cannot discern the falling tear that is shed on 
this little earth. But it is not so, beloved ! No sooner was the telescope 



196 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



invented to the fostering of human doubt, than another instrument, the 
micr®scope, was invented to the removal of that doubt; and the infinity of 
God, thou findest it again in every flying straw, and in every grain of mus- 
tard seed. Is it not the same instrument, which discovers to us, on every 
leaf of the forest, whole races and families of a world of joyous life ; which 
opens to our view upon the wing of a fly a scene of wonders surpassing 
everything produced by the industry and art of man ? Yea beloved, I put 
to you the bold quere, — Where is God the greater, in the great things, or in 
the small, of his creation ? in the immeasurable of the earth, or in the infinite 
of the heavens? — If thus, through all visible nature there is seen this ma- 
jestic, manifold and inexhaustibly rich variety; if the flying straw and the 
wing of the smallest insect is a theatre of God's wonderful works, how 
much greater care must he have bestowed upon man ! 

" Differing from all other natures, there steps before us a form erect, look- 
ing toward heaven ; and in that noble form a spirit, which may mount on 
the wing of thought from earth to the skies, and come back again from the 
skies to earth. Yet ah ! what do 1 see ?— That form which is made to walk 
through life with heaven in its eye, it does not even look toward heaven ; 
and that spirit, which in its meditation may turn from earth to heaven, and 
back again from heaven to earth, it brings down no sure intelligence ! 1 ask, 
f Wanderer, whither ? Wanderer, whence ?' But there comes to my ear the 
answer, 1 I know not, but 1 see the heaven full of stars and the heart of man 
full of foreboding.' — Yea, foreboding, longing, this is the only relic which 
man has saved from the great apostasj^, in which he lost the primitive noble- 
ness of his nature. And all his wise men and learned men, they can excite 
this longing still more keenly, but they can never satisfy it. And shall it 
actually remain unsatisfied? No. He who hath made the heart with such 
ceaseless cravings, he will appease them, he will appease these cravings in 
the kingdom of grace ; and the wonders in the kingdom of his grace are 
even greater than those in the kingdom of nature." Vol. IV. pp. 3 — 7. 

NOTE W, Page 1C7. 

The paragraph to which this note refers, alludes to several topics, which 
Tholuck very frequently introduces into his sermons. He often mourns 
over the degeneracy of the present age, and yet indulges no morbid and 
sickly distrust in the future prospects of the church : see in particular Vol. 
II. pp. 226 — 7. He often insists on the importance of secret meditation, of 
retirement from the world, and yet does not encourage that merely senti- 
mental piety, which characterizes so many of his evangelical countrymen. 
The following are specimens of the mode, in which he recommends the 
habit of secluded thought ; of habitual private reflection upon our own sins 
and God's paternal love. 

In a sermon upon Christian Truth, from Eph.4:25, he says, — : ' The 
first instance of a want of truth toward ourselves and toward God, is seen in 
this, that we purposely forbear to examine ourselves in the presence of our 
Maker, that we do not seek the still hour. Of this want of truth some per- 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



197 



haps are almost altogether unconscious ; it may be the result of an entirely 
thoughtless levity, which leads a man to live as if he would never die ; but 
we, who live within the precincts of the Christian church, are in some 
measure and in a majority of instances conscious, that we are in this respect 
untrue to ourselves. Do not the most of us well understand, that if they 
would often, in the still hour and before the eye of God, examine them- 
selves, they would appear in an entirely different light from what they now 
do ? You know how that brilliant jewel, that sparkling ornament, which 
ravished the eye by lamp-light,— how it often grows pale, when the morning- 
sun shines upon it, because it is a mere imitation. Oh my beloved, in the 
same way do many of you bear about with you the consciousness, that you 
are moving, through life, under this deceitful shining of a lamp. But you 
are resolved to remain in this false light, because you fear that your jewels, 
if the rays of the sun should fall on them, would prove themselves to be but 
imitation-trinkets. Poor, deluded souls ! You now congratulate yourselves 
that you are able to shut out from you the light of day; but when the day 
of decision shall arrive, and its morning sun shall come forth in its splendor, 
can you then hold it back, and say, 1 Sun, shine on me no more ?' This is 
that sun, rising directly upon you, chasing away all darkness; this is the 
thief in the night, before which you are dismayed, and by which your peace 
of conscience is destroyed, because it will one day rob you of all your fair 
appearances." Vol. III. pp. 45, 46. 

In a sermon preached by Tholuck Nov. 10, 1833, in commemoration of 
the birth-day of Luther, is a brief description of Luther's conversion. The 
heavenly voice, which once cried out to the apostle, Saul, Saul, why 
persecutest thou me ? is represented as having, in a similar and almost 
miraculous manner, arrested Luther in his course of sin, and as having 
cried out, Martin, Martin, why seekest thou me not. The discourse then 
proceeds as follows : " Luther began at this time to seek God. It was the 
time when every one, who would seek and serve the Lord, must resort to 
the stillness of the cloister. ' Flee far from me, ye joys of the world,' so 
the new convert cried from his very soul. ' where the melodies of the world are 
heard, there the instrument of God shall make music for me !' So he with- 
draws himself into the cloistered cell; he seeks the approval of Jehovah; in 
daily, severe self-denial he seeks it. With every new step that he takes in 
the divine life, he perceives the image of perfect holiness rising higher and 
higher above him. On all sides it is cried out to him, 'be holy, heart, be 
holy ;' but lo, the goading of passion and of evil desire do not cease. Over- 
powered with severe sickness, he sinks into a state of deep disquiet of soul. 
When even his beloved music ceases to console him. then does he hear a 
more glorious music. An old cloister- brother repeats to him, from the 
Apostle's creed, which you hear every sunday before the altar, the words, 
1 1 believe in the forgiveness of sins.' Innumerable times had he, as have you 
also, listened to these words; but, brethren, the declaration of the forgive- 
ness of sins is one which will be first understood, when the need of the soul 
and the thirst after divine grace have opened the intellect. With many 



198 



NOTES By THE TRANSLATOR. 



such words does the sacred Scripture come to men as to the deaf and dumb : 
they learn to utter the words, but the meaning of what they utter they 
understand not. If the deaf mute could acquire the power of hearing-, he 
would be obliged to learn anew all that he has artificially repeated. The 
wants of the soul, the thirst after divine grace must first open the under- 
standing for every divine truth.'' 

And now " brother, a voice from God rings in thine ears, my child, why 
hast thou not sought me ? Yea from infancy up —first, when thou wast sitting 
in thy mother's embrace, while she told thee the story of the dear Redeemer ; 
and then in thy boyhood, when in starry nights thou gazedst on the grandeur 
of thy heavenly Father's mansions, and thine eyes shed drops of thankful- 
ness, that among all his millions of worlds he forgot not thee, poor child ; 
and then in thy youth, when sin conflicted sorely with thee, and thou 
learnedst the truth < he that trusteth in his own heart is a fool;'— every 
where and all the way has thy Father's voice cried out to thee, < wherefore 
seekest thou me not, my straying child, for 1 am still thy Father'— Art thou 
then awakened, brother, by this voice ; then confer not with flesh and blood ; 
bid farewell to the world. What ! you ask, shall we fly from the relations 
in which God has placed us. shall we seek the cloistered stillness, and the 
cloistered garments ? No, my friends. We are indebted to our Luther, that 
we have learned another mode of separation from the world, than that by 
monkish garments ; and another mode of living in the cloister, than that of 
living between four narrow walls. He it was, who taught the Christian 
what is that evangelical separation from the world, that evangelical mode of 
living in the cloister, which is thus described by Paul, ' they have as though 
they have not. they enjoy as though they enjoyed not." Vol. I. pp. 6, 7, 8. 



NOTE X, Page 169. 

The allusion to Francke in this passage will perhaps appear forced and 
inapposite, unless we consider that the name of this remarkable man is as- 
sociated, in a peculiar degree, with faith in God, with earnestness in prayer, 
and with very surprising divine interpositions in his behalf; unless we also 
consider that he was a resident, for more than forty years, at the place where 
this sermon was delivered, that he was one of the first theological professors 
in the University, that he was the original founder of the orphan-house, for 
which Halle has been so long distinguished, and that his name is remember- 
ed throughout Germany with the profoundest veneration. His orphan 
house, to which Tholuck more particularly alludes, was in an emphatic 
sense built by prayer ; was undertaken without any resources except the 
prospective and unpledged contributions of the benevolent ; and often when 
the devoted founder had not a farthing to pay his workmen, he could do 
nothing but fall on his knees, and entreat the overruling Providence for the 
needed supplies. It was singular, that individuals, known and unknown, 
frequently sent him, by the post, at these fearful emergencies, the very 
donations which he had just implored from Heaven. 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE AND CHARACTER 

OF 

PROF. THOLUCK, 



SKETCH OF 



THOLUCK'S LIFE AND CHARACTER. 



The following sketch was originally intended for insertion among 
the notes to the preceding sermons of Tholuck, and therefore its 
analysis of his character was designed more particularly to exhibit 
his qualifications as a preacher. It is inserted as a separate article, 
because its length would have increased the notes to a disproportion- 
ate bulk. Many of the statements which it gives are translated from 
the Supplement to the Conversations-Lexicon der neuesten Zeit und 
Literatur, Vol. IV. pp. 625—628. Leipsic, 1834. Though the 
article on Tholuck in that Lexicon was written by his opposers, 
and was designed to produce an unfavorable impression concerning 
him, it may still be relied on as accurate in its general statement of 
facts, many of them having been furnished for the Lexicon by 
Tholuck himself. Other facts, detailed in the ensuing sketch, were 
gleaned from the letters and journals of American divines, who have 
enjoyed the acquaintance of Prof. Tholuck. 

Frederic Augustus Gottreu Tholuck was born at Breslau, the 
capital of Silesia, on the thirtieth of March, 1799. It was early in- 
tended that he should follow the occupation of his father, which was 
that of a goldsmith. He accordingly left school in his twelfth year, 
and entered upon his apprenticeship. He had such an aversion to 
his employment, however, that he soon returned to the Gymnasium, 
and in 1816 entered the University at Breslau. He was now seven- 
teen years of age, and as yet had acquired no predilection for any 
particular course of study. But in a short time he formed a strong 
attachment to oriental literature, and made application to Kosegarten, 
Professor at Griefswalde, a pupil of De Sacy, and one of the first 
26 



202 



BIOGRAFHICAL SKETCH OF THOLTJCK. 



oriental scholars in Germany, for means to prosecute his studies in 
this department. Before he had been three months at the University, 
he resolved to solicit the patronage of the celebrated orientalist, the 
prelate Von Dietz, formerly the Prussian ambassador at Constanti- 
nople. Having received recommendations from the philologist 
Schneider, and from other literary men at Breslau, he set out for 
Berlin, and found in Dietz a much more cordial welcome than he 
had expected. The prelate adopted him as his foster-son, and 
promised to afford him the means of travelling in the East at some 
future day. After the lapse of three months, however, this bene- 
factor of Tholuck deceased, but Tholuck was not deprived of the 
means of pursuing his favorite study. He had become known as a 
promising orientalist to many who cheerfully lent him their aid ; 
and through the instrumentality of the minister Von Altenstein, he 
was endowed with a considerable stipend, which enabled him to 
continue his oriental studies. He availed himself chiefly of the 
instructions of Ideler and Wilken. 

In a paragraph which Tholuck prefixed to the English translation 
of his Comm. on the Rom., he says, " Even in early boyhood infi- 
delity had forced its way into my heart, and at the age of twelve I 
was wont to scoff at Christianity and its truths. Hard has been the 
struggle which I have come through, before attaining to assurance 
of that faith, in which I am now blessed. I prove, however, in my- 
self, and acknowledge it with praise to the Almighty, that the longer 
I live, the more does serious study, combined with the experiences 
of life, help me to recognize in the christian doctrine an inex- 
haustible fountain of true knowledge, and serve to strengthen the 
conviction, that all the wisdom of this world is but folly when com- 
pared with the glorious gospel of Jesus Christ." Edin. Bib. Cab., 
No. V. p. 14, Pref. During the whole period of his residence at the 
Gymnasium he was decided in his infidelity, and for the theme of 
the oration which he delivered on leaving that institution, he chose, 
The superiority of Mohammedanism to Christianity. It was not 
until the last year of his university life, that his theological views 
became more consistent and rational. An intimate acquaintance with 
Professor Neander of Berlin was highly serviceable to his religious 
character. He was also peculiarly indebted to the faithful religious 
counsels of Baron Von Cottewitz, a very pious Lutheran, still living 
at an advanced age in Berlin. Tholuck himself frequently refers to 
this man as his spiritual father. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



203 



Immediately after completing his three years' course at the Uni- 
versity, Tholuck became one of the private teachers at Berlin. In 
1819 De Wette, having written a letter of condolence to the mother 
of Sands, the young theological student who murdered Kotzebue, 
(see Cons. Lex. Art. Sands), was peremptorily dismissed from his 
Professorship at Berlin ; and Tholuck, having early become a 
favorite with the Prussian Government, was appointed his successor. 
He had however only the title of Professor Extraordinarius. At the 
time of his promotion to this elevated chair, he was only twenty 
years of age. Succeeding at so early a period of life, so distinguished 
a Professor as De Wette, he was obliged to withdraw his attention 
in some degree from his oriental studies, and direct them more par- 
ticularly to theological. He applied himself with great zeal and 
assiduity to the defence of evangelical religion, and his efforts secured 
the warm approbation of the King and Ministry of Prussia, and soon 
elevated him to the station of a leader in the orthodox party. The 
honors which he received immediately after the change in his re- 
ligious views and character, have induced his enemies to ascribe 
this change to his desire of procuring the patronage of the Govern- 
ment, and becoming the head of what they are pleased to call the 
fanatics and pietists. 

The mental precocity of Tholuck was nearly equal to that of 
Gesenius, who published his invaluable Hebrew Lexicon at the age 
of twenty three, his larger Hebrew Grammar at twenty seven, and 
his celebrated Commentary on Isaiah at thirty-one. Tholuck was 
but twenty-two years eld, when he published his Hints for the Study 
of the Old Testament (8vo. 1821), and also his Ssufismus, or Pan- 
theistic Theology of the Persians (8vo. 1821), a work which, to- 
gether with his other productions in oriental literature, has been 
highly extolled even by his opposers ; see Cons. Lex. Art. Thiol. , and 
All. Literatur-Zeit, 1825. He was but twenty-three years of age, when 
he published his Treatise on the Nature and Moral Influence of 
Heathenism ; an article which Gesenius pronounced the ablest 
which he had ever seen on the subject. This article was translated 
by Prof. Emerson of Andover, and published in the Bib. Repository, 
Vol. II. pp. 80—124, 246—290, 441—499. He was but twenty-five 
years of age, when he published his Comm. on the Romans ; which 
has passed through three editions in Germany, and has been 
translated into English, in the Edin. Bib. Cabinet. De Wette, 



204 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



though far from evangelical in his sentiments, has pronounced this 
Commentary superior to any that had preceded it on the same 
Epistle. Tholuck was but twenty-six years of age, when he pub- 
lished the following works : a separate Translation of the Epistle to 
the Romans, which has been carried through two editions in Ger- 
many (8vo. 1825 and 1831) ; an Anthology of the Oriental Mystic 
Poems, with an Introduction on the Mystics generally and the Eas- 
tern in particular, (8vo. 1825) ; and an article on Sin and the Re- 
deemer, or the conversion of a Skeptic, which has passed through 
four editions in Germany, and part of which was translated by Mr. 
Nast for the Bib. Repos., Vol. VIII. pp. 308—341. In the succeed- 
ing year, 1826, he published a work on the Speculations of the 
later Orientalists respecting the doctrine of the Trinity. 

In the year 1825, Tholuck took a journey to England and Hol- 
land. He visited England again in 1835. His first journey was taken 
for the purpose of literary improvement, and especially of extending 
his acquaintance with the Oriental writings. His expenses were 
defrayed by the Prussian Government, with whom he still continues 
to be a favorite. While in England he expressed, as every sincere 
and honest Christian would be inclined to do, his grief at the loose- 
ness of German theology. Some of his remarks, particularly those 
made in speeches before the British and Foreign Bible Society, were 
reported in Germany, were distorted and exaggerated by the Ration- 
alists, and thus excited great, but unmerited indignation against him. 
His opposers have not yet forgotten nor forgiven these remarks. 

While he was on his foreign tour, he was attacked with a severe 
illness, and was obliged to return, earlier than he had intended, to his 
native land. Dr. Knapp, Professor Ordinarius of Theology at Halle, 
having died in 1825, Tholuck was appointed in 1826, when but 
twenty-seven years of age, the successor of that distinguished theo- 
io gian. His appointment was violently opposed by the Rationalists 
at Halle, who constitute decidedly the most numerous as well as the 
strongest party at that seat of learning. They denounced him as a 
fanatic, accused him afresh of having pre-condemned them in a 
foreign land, and they endeavored by various means, to prevent 
his acceptance of the appointment. He did accept, however, and 
mitigated for a time their hostility by his amiable spirit and deport- 
ment, and his exhibition of extensive and various learning. 

In 1827, the year after his appointment to the theological chair 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



205 



of Dr. Knapp, the chair which he still retains, he published his 
Commentary on the Gospel of John, which has passed through five 
editions in Germany, and been translated into our own language. 
Having suffered for a long time and very severely from disease, he 
was appointed in the spring of 1828, Chaplain of the Prussian 
Embassy at Rome. He accepted the appointment, and spent a 
year in Italy with decided benefit to his health. The intellectual 
pleasure as well as profit, which he must have received in the library 
of the Vatican, will be appreciated by all who consider the richness 
of that library in foreign manuscripts, andThoIuck's familiarity with 
foreign languages. 

While a private teacher and a professor at Berlin, Tholuck had 
the title of Licentiate of Theology. When he removed to Halle, 
the University of Berlin conferred on hitn the degree of Doctor of 
Theology. When he accepted his chaplaincy, he applied for 
ordination at Merseburg, and received it without a previous ex- 
amination. This examination is customarily omitted at the ordina- 
tion of Doctors in Theology. In 1830, he was appointed Court- 
Preacher at Dresden. This invitation he declined, and immediately 
afterwards received from the Government the honorary title of 
Consistorialrath, Counsellor or Assessor of the Consistory. This is 
now his proper style of address. It is somewhat higher than the 
doctorate of divinity among us. Only one ecclesiastical honor, that 
of Oberconsistorialrath, is higher than this in Germany. Bibl. Rep. 
Vol. I. pp. 413, 414. 

In 1829 he published a volume of sermons, which were preached 
at Berlin, Rome, London and Halle. This is, strictly speaking, his 
first volume of sermons, though that published in 1834, is marked 
the first, from its relation to the subsequent series. In 1830, soon 
after his return from Italy, he became involved in a very serious 
altercation with the Rationalists at Halle, a slight allusion to which 
is found in Bib. Rep., Vol. I. p. 29. The circumstances of the case 
are the following. Ludwig Von Gerlack, then associate Judge at 
Frankfort on the Oder, a contributor to Hengstenberg's Evangelical 
Church Journal, exposed in that periodical the impious manner in 
which Gesenius and Wegscheider, Professors at Halle, ridiculed 
certain portions of Scripture, and slandered the sacred penmen. He 
sustained his charges by quotations from notes taken by the students 
of the University. It was thought to be an outrage upon the rights 



206 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



of the professors, and upon the character of the students, thus to 
publish abstracts of lectures, which were not intended for the public 
eye, and which could not be fairly exhibited in such a shape ; and 
above all to publish them for the purpose " of accusing these es- 
teemed and distinguished men of heterodoxy," and of exciting 
against them the hostile feeling of the Government. The professors 
resented, as an infringement of their privileges, the attempt to make 
them responsible to the public and obnoxious to the ministry, for the 
remarks which they might make at a private lecture ; and the 
students not only sympathized with the professors, but felt that an 
imputation was cast upon their own honor. 

Tholuck had not approved of Von Gerlack's article, had even at- 
tempted to dissaude him from the publication of it, yet he was sus- 
pected of having instigated the whole exposure. So great was the 
consequent excitement against him that his life was endangered, and 
he was obliged to have a military guard when he visited the Minis- 
try. His opposers now say, with the coolness of true Rationalists, 
that " as he was known to be one of the leaders of that fanatical 
party, who support the Church Journal, and as he was then resident 
at Halle, it was natural that he should be suspected of an agency in 
this attack upon his colleagues, and that he should be thereby ex- 
posed to the first out-breaking of the merited indignation, which was 
felt by the youth, then pursuing their studies at Halle and feeling 
themselves calumniated in the offensive article. On a closer ex- 
amination, however, it appeared that Tholuck was free from par- 
ticipating in that accusation of heterodoxy, and that he had not 
recommended the interposition of the Government against the 
Rationalist teachers. But as he agreed, in substance, with the 
dogmatic principles of the Evangelical party, the indignation and 
the literary attacks of the freethinking theologians were aimed 
against him in an especial manner. Among these attacks, by far 
the most severe was doubtless that which came from Charles 
Frederick Augustus Fritzsche, of Rostock ; for while all others con- 
tended against Tholuck's dogmatic principles, this writer accused 
him of the rudest ignorance concerning the laws of language and 
of interpretation." " Fritzsche came forward with a work called ' A 
Review of the merits of Mr. Tholuck as an Interpreter,' (Halle 1831). 
In this work he showed, by a long catalogue of examples from 
Tholuck's exegetical writings, that he committed every moment 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



207 



mistakes, (to irritate Tholuckhe called them blunders), of the gravest 
character against the canons of language and of interpretation ; that 
he did not know how to place the accent aright, but offended in this 
respect against the forms of speech and against syntax ; that he 
coined words in a mode which usage did not justify ; that he gave 
definitions, which are not and cannot be sanctioned ; that he fell 
into the most incredible errors in apprehending the meaning of the 
original, etc." " Against these criticisms, expressed in so cutting a 
manner, Tholuck endeavoured to defend himself in his ■ Contribu- 
tions to the Interpretation of the New Testament, together with a Re- 
view of the Criticism upon my Comm. on the Rom., by Dr. Fritzsche,' 
(Halle, 1832). He was far, however, from being successful in ex- 
culpating himself from all the errors charged against him ; on the 
contrary he emboldened Fritzshce to publish a new work, Prelimin- 
aries, etc.," (Halle 1832), in which the same errors were forcibly 
particularized, and new errors added. Against this work Tholuck 
endeavored to defend himself again, in his ' One sober word more,' 
etc., (Halle 1832) ; but he could not entirely wash away the stain, 
which was fastened upon him." " This contest between Fritzsche 
and Tholuck was on subjects, purely philological. It is, however, 
to be regarded as an important part of the contest between Rational- 
ism and Super-naturalism ; inasmuch as the combatants belonged to 
the two opposing parties, and the spirit of party manifestly con- 
tributed to make the contest more bitter and violent, than it could 
have been made by mere philological differences. It derived inter- 
est, also, from its operation upon the general controversy between 
the two parties, for it had a close connexion with the literary charac- 
ter of one of the chief men among the super-naturalists, one upon 
whom the influence of those men in the province of letters essen- 
tially depended. Previously to this, Tholuck had been universally 
acknowledged to be a man of profound learning, particularly in the 
department of oriental literature ; his exegetical labors had, there- 
fore, no small influence in favor of his theological opinions ; and he 
was the pride and the bulwark of his party." " Though it may be 
regarded by the rationalists as a fortunate event, that their most 
influential opponent was thus divested of his false show of learning, 
yet still this kind of literary warfare, this fault-finding (splitterrich- 
terliche) dispute on words, these despicable reproaches for blunders 
in language, must be regarded as a proof of a base spirit in our 



20y 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



learned community." Cons. Lex. Arts. Tholuck, and Rationalism 
and Super-naturalism; Vol. IV. pp. 626,7, and Vol. 111. pp. 693, 4. 

That the animadversions of Fritzsche, and more recentl}- of Strauss, 
upon Tholuck's literary character were not entirely unjust, is ad- 
mitted by many of Tholuck's friends ; and the influence of them is 
said to have been decidedly beneficial both to his habits of investiga- 
tion, and his style of writing. But that these attacks were so ruin- 
ous to his reputation, as the preceding narrative of the Rationalists 
would indicate, is not pretended now even by his enemies. They 
are obliged to concede, that the censures heaped upon him were too 
unqualified and indiscriminate, that his inaccuracies were by no 
means so gross nor his faults of style so censurable as was pre- 
tended : see even the Cons. Lex. Vol. IV. p. 628. The replies of 
Tholuck, which are mentioned so disparagingly above, are said by 
many to be among his happiest efforts. They convict his reviewer 
of greater inaccuracies than were charged upon himself. His de- 
portment, through the whole conflict, was truly christian and noble. 
He considered himself as attacked not by Fritzsche alone, but by the 
great body of the Rationalists. They instigated Fritzsche to his 
merciless criticism ; men, of whom we should little suspect such 
dishonorable conduct, furnished him with materials for his censure ; 
and his condemnatory works may be considered the joint effort of 
those most interested in Tholuck's downfall ; and yet the effort was, 
as the candid now confess, unsuccessful. It may also be remarked 
that there were feelings of personal ill-will, which instigated Fritzsche 
to his encounter with Tholuck. He is of about the same age with 
his antagonist, like him is the author of several Commentaries on 
the sacred books, but instead of being, as his father was before him, 
in a Theological Professorship at Halle, he is Professor of Theology 
at Rostock, the smallest of the German Universities. He formerly 
held the same Professorship at Leipsic. The father, Christian 
Frederic Fritzsche, D. D., was a decided rationalist, and his spirit 
reappears in his son. 

In 1830, Tholuck established a periodical paper, called the 
Literary Advertiser, for Christian Theology and General Intelligence. 
It is a single sheet, quarto, and was issued at the rate of eighty num- 
bers a year. The greater part of its articles are said to be from his 
own pen. He is about to publish a collection of essays from this pa- 
per, in a separate volume ; to which he designs to append some arti- 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



209 



cles never before given to the public. From this periodical there 
have been translated into English, an article on the present state of 
Theological Literature and Education in Italy, Bib. Repos. Vol. L 
pp. 177 — 186, and II. pp. 394 — 405 ; an article on the Lexicogra- 
phy of the New Testament, Bib. Repos. Vol. I. pp. 552 — 568 ; an 
article on the Hypothesis of the Egyptian or Indian Origin of the 
name Jehovah, Bib. Repos. Vol. IV. pp. 89 — 108 ; and an article 
on the merits of Calvin as an Interpreter, Bib. Repos. Vol. II. pp. 
541 — 568. The first two articles were translated by Prof. Robinson 
of New York, the last one by Prof. Woods of Bangor, and all of 
them were written by Prof. Tholuck. The establishment of the 
Literary Advertiser originated from no want of friendship for 
Hengstenberg ; for Tholuck still contributes to the pages of the 
Church Journal, and Hengstenberg contributes to the Advertiser. 
The two editors are personal friends, though Tholuck is not so vio- 
lent and caustic as Hengstenberg, but occupies a middle ground 
between him on the one side, and Neander on the other, being more 
tolerant than the former, less accommodating than the latter. His 
opposers, speaking of his relation to the two periodicals, say, not in 
all respects with perfect correctness, that " Tholuck in his dogmatical 
system is more liberal and stands more upon speculative ground, 
than that rigorous portion of the evangelical party which is repre- 
sented in Hengstenberg. He does not sanction the dogmatic ex- 
clusiveness of the last named writer, and that fanatical system of 
persecution and impeachment for heterodoxy, which is founded on 
such exclusiveness. Since the catastrophe at Halle he seems to 
have freed himself from his earlier connection with the Church 
Journal, and has established a theological paper of his own ; which 
preserves more of a scientific character than Hengstenberg's, and 
during the most violent party-contests, has preserved a commendable 
moderation." Con. Lex. Vol. IV. p. 627. 

In 1833, Tholuck edited Calvin's Commentary on the New Testa- 
ment, 6 Vols. 8vo. In the same year he also published his Com- 
mentary on Christ's Sermon on the Mount. Part of this Commen- 
tary, that on the 5th of Matt., was translated into English for the 
Edinburgh Bib. Cabinet, No. VI. and part also, that on the Lord's 
Prayer, was translated by Prof. Torrey of Burlington for the Bib. 
Repos. Vol. V. pp. 190—238, and Vol. VI. pp. 187—207. The 
following extract from a letter of Tholuck to Rev. R. Menzies, of 
27 



210 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



Scotland, will present the view, which our author entertains of this 
Commentary, in comparison with his Comm. on the Romans. " I wish 
especially to remark, that the work (on the Rom.) is to be regarded as 
the production of an earlier period of my life, and as having been 
intended for a particular purpose. I composed it in my twenty-fifth 
year, with the special view of commending to the hearts of my 
countrymen the doctrine of justification by faith, which at the time I 
perceived to be greatly misunderstood. Other points are hence 
labored with less care ; and at this time ( 1833) I believe that on the 
9th chapter I should be able to give some more profound views. 
Accordingly, it by no means presents what I now consider as the 
beau ideal of a theological commentary. I am occupied at present 
with the publication of an extensive commentary upon the Sermon 
on the Mount, and it is to this I must refer, if your countrymen 
should wish a more mature work from my pen. It contains many 
expositions of the doctrines, and might serve to render the dogmatical 
part of our theology more accessible to English divines. At the 
same time I am persuaded, that none of them would there meet with 
anything at all contrary to the pure orthodoxy of your church." 
Ed. Bib. Cab. Preface to the Comm. on Rom. pp. 13, 14. 

In 1835, Tholuck published a Comment on the Influence of the 
Greek Philosophy upon the Theology of the Mohammedans and the 
Jews ; in 1S36, his Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews ; in 
1837, his Treatise on the Credibility of the Evangelical His- 
tory, with his reply to Dr. D. Strauss's Leben Jesu ; and in the four 
years 1834, 5, 7, and 8, he published four Volumes of sermons, 
each containing about 200 pages, 12mo. They have recently been 
published in a new edition of 2 Vols. pp. 366 and 429. His 
contributions to the German periodicals have been numerous and 
important. Those published in the Studien und Kritiken are, 
one on the Want of Agreement among the Interpreters of the New 
Testament Vol. V. No. 2, a translation of which by Prof. Rob- 
inson is in Bib. Repos., Vol. III. pp. 684—707 ; one on the Sin 
against the Holy Ghost, Vol. IX. No. 2, and one on the Study of 
Paul's Epistles, Vol. VIII. No. 2. He is at this time engaged in a 
labored revision of his Comm. on the Romans ; and when we con- 
sider the great advantages which he enjoys for improving his pre- 
ceding editions, we may reasonably expect that this Commentary 
will surpass in interest either of his others. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



211 



Notwithstanding the variety of Prof. Tholuck's publications, 
his labors have not been confined to the study. When at 
Berlin, he established at his own house a religious conference, 
chiefly for the benefit of the pious students of the University. It 
was held every week, and its exercises were prayer, singing, the 
reading of the Scriptures or of a sermon, familiar conversation on 
doctrinal or practical theology, and sometimes a direct religious ad- 
dress. This conference is still continued every Saturday evening. 
It is the more worthy of notice, because meetings of this character 
are generally subjects of ridicule among the Germans ; and besides 
are often regarded with suspicion, have sometimes indeed been ex- 
pressly prohibited by the Government. Since Tholuck has been 
at Halle, he has held similar meetings at his house once or twice a 
week. He also conducts a missionary meeting every month, at 
which he presents the latest intelligence respecting American, 
English and other missions. He labors much in preparation for this 
meeting, and imparts to it a lively interest. This missionary spirit 
would not be indeed particularly noticeable among American 
Christians, but it is to be viewed in contrast with the prejudices and 
the dormancy of even the evangelical party in his own land. Read 
the description of the want of religious enterprise among German 
Christians, in Bib. Repos. Vol. I. pp. 438 — 451. The German 
Professors ordinarily have little or no personal intercourse with their 
pupils, are often wholly unacquainted with them. The students are 
too numerous, and the Professors too much absorbed in study, to 
permit a great degree of social interview. Neander and Dr. F. Strauss 
at Berlin, however, have labored to exert a personal religious influence 
upon their scholars ; and Tholuck, as he has a very peculiar interest 
and tact in conversation, employs his lalent with fidelity. Prof. 
Sears, writing from Halle in 1834, says, " The uncommon pressure 
of Tholuck's public labors leaves him no leisure time. But 
when he walks, which he does twice a day, and an hour and a half at 
each time, he invites three or four students of similar religious 
character to accompany him. With these he converses in a manner 
best adapted to win them to a religious life. With the serious he 
comes directly to the point. With others he spreads his net wider ; 
and through the medium of literary, philosophical, or theological dis- 
cussion, conducted with vivacity and the utmost affection, he steals 
upon their hearts and holds them his captives. Another company 



212 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



are, for the same purpose, invited to his dinner table ; and thus 
daily he spends several hours, as a friend, patron and pastor to the 
more hopeful among his pupils. If they are indigent, he remits their 
tuition ; and if he publishes a sermon or a pamphlet, the profit goes 
to them. His extensive and choice library is always at their service." 

In addition to the personal influence which Tholuck exerts upon 
his pupils, he conducts an extensive correspondence both with his 
own countrymen and with foreigners, and is distinguished for his 
attention to the literati who visit Halle from other lands, and par- 
ticularly from England and America. The pious foreigner feels at 
home when with Tholuck ; and nearly every one, coming within the 
reach of his influence, feels a strong attachment to him. " To the 
American Christian," said Prof. Robinson in 1831, " who travels on 
this part of the continent, Tholuck is undoubtedly the most interest- 
ing person whose acquaintance he will make. He possesses a 
greater personal influence and reputation than any other theologian 
in Germany." Bib. Repos. Vol. I. p. 29. His opposers ascribe his 
popularity to his extensive and intimate intercourse with foreigners, 
to the strong personal attachments which he has formed, and to his 
connections with a religious party; as well as to what they are 
obliged to acknowledge, his superior talent in lecturing, and some 
considerable power in his writings. Cons. Lex. Vol. IV. p. 627. 

It is worthy of remark, that notwithstanding Prof. Tholuck has 
for a long time given to the world two or three volumes a year, some 
of them highly labored : and in connection with these efforts for the 
public has delivered regular lectures at the University, sometimes 
two or three lectures a day ; has preached statedly once a fortnight, 
and on frequent intermediate occasions ; has maintained the responsi- 
ble and onerous station of a leader in the evangelical party for the 
period of nearly twenty years, and is at the present time but just 
forty years old ; and notwithstanding he has combined with all these 
labors a sedulous attention to the personal duties of a gentleman, a 
Christian, and a pastor, he has been afflicted during the whole period 
with feeble and precarious health, and has been reduced at times 
nearly to a state of blindness. Suffering under a broken constitution, 
he has been obliged, like Neander and Hengstenberg, to depend on 
rigid physical discipline for ability to prosecute his studies. His 
person is slender, his temperament nervous, and his life is a per- 
petual conflict between mind and body. His appearance is at 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



213 



present that of a man prematurely grown old. It is to be earnestly 
hoped, that he may add another to the many illustrations of the 
remark, that men of the feeblest constitutions often accomplish the 
most, and live the longest. 

The philosophical opinions of Tholuck are peculiar ; more con- 
genial however with the prevalent systems of his own countrymen, 
than with any other. He is a decided opponent of Locke, Reid, 
Stewart and Brown, of the whole "sensual" system, so called, 
which prevails in Great Britain and America. He does not how- 
ever entirely sympathize with either Kant, Schelling, Fichte or Hegel. 
He may be called perhaps an eclectic transcendentalist ; having a 
system of his own, which is culled from the various systems of 
what is termed the spiritual philosophy. We have understood that 
he finds no objection, in his speculations, to the new theory of animal 
magnetism, but has avowed his belief in it, and defended some of its 
principles in his lectures on theology. Hegel and Schleiermacher, 
and indeed many of his most distinguished countrymen have avowed 
the same belief. The following note in Hegel's Encyclopaedic der 
Philosophic pp. 591, 592, will indicate (so far as it is understood) 
the views which this prince of the transcendentalists entertains of 
Tholuck's philosophical tendencies. " The rich contributions which 
Tholuck has given us in his Anthology of the Oriental Mystics, from 
the poems of Dschelaleddin, and others, were produced with views 
like those which we have here presented. In his introduction, 
Tholuck shows what a thorough comprehension he has of the mystic 
philosophy ; he there determines very accurately the character of 
the Eastern, and that of the Western and Christian writers in refer- 
ence to this system. Notwithstanding the dissimilarity of these 
classes, they have the common designation of mystics. The union 
of mysticism with what is denominated Pantheism includes according 
to Tholuck, p. 33, that inward vitality of the mind and soul, which 
essentially consists in this, the annihilation of that external All, which 
is wont to be ascribed to Pantheism. In other places Tholuck 
acquiesces in the common but obscure representation of Pantheism. 
He had no interest in a fundamental discussion of the subject, fur- 
ther than was necessary for ascertaining the feeling of the writer 
whom he quoted. He seems to be seized with a wonderful en- 
thusiasm in behalf of a mystical philosophy, which is to be called, 
in the usual sense of the term, entirely pantheistic. But yet when- 



214 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



ever he undertakes to philosophize, (p. 12, seq.), he does not go 
beyond the ordinary view taken by the metaphysical understanding, 
nor beyond its indefinite forms of thought." 

In his theological speculations, as well as philosophical, Tholuck 
is independent and untrammelled. It needs not to be stated that the 
spirit of his theology is eminently evangelical, and such as exposes 
him to the severe animadversions of the rationalists. They com- 
plain of his fanatical " mystical" pietism, as his great weakness. It 
must be remembered, however, that in his orthodoxy, Tholuck is a 
German, and not a Briton, or of British descent. He makes no 
effort to regulate his creed by any of our formularies, but examines 
every doctrine for himself, as if he were the first man who had 
investigated it. He adopts the prevalent continental view of the 
Sabbath, and such a view of the nature and extent of inspiration as 
no evangelical Christian in America would approve : see Bib. Repos. 
Vol. VIII. p. 487. He is an admirer and eulogist of Calvin : Plato, 
Augustine, Thomas Aquinas and Calvin are said to be his favorite 
authors ; yet he sometimes expresses such feelings in reference to 
the peculiarities of Calvinism, as can be palliated only on the ground 
of a mental structure and habits of association altogether peculiar. 

The believers in the final restoration of the lost have sometimes, 
in triumph, claimed Prof. Tholuck as an authority in their favor. 
They have rested their claim on the representations, which several 
of our evangelical writers have given of Tholuck's belief on this sub- 
ject ; representations which have been misunderstood by some, and 
misinterpreted by more. In the first place, there can be no doubt, 
that the whole spirit of Tholuck's theology is as dissonant from that 
of American universalists, as music from discord. In the second 
place, the tendency which his speculations may have had, at a 
former period, toward the doctrine of the final restoration of all 
mankind, cannot be ascribed to them, in the same degree, at present. 
His mind was once fluctuating on the subject ; and the difference 
between a permanent conviction that a doctrine is true, and a tempo- 
rary inclination toward the doctrine is too obvious to be insisted on. 
In the third place, the notions which he may have entertained in 
sympathy with the doctrine of universal salvation, he never made 
prominent in his system ; never thrust them forward into a con- 
spicuous place, nor even avowed them, except with the caution of 
one who knew the licentious influence which they might exert. An 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



215 



opinion, when entertained in the shape of a subordinate and inciden- 
tal theory, is as different in its influence from that same opinion, 
when entertained in the shape of an essential and conspicuous 
doctrine, as the alcohol in bread is different in its effect from the 
alcohol in brandy. A man's physical system may be, on the whole, 
sound, though it be not free from some local disease in a foot or 
finger ; but his state is essentially different, when disease has in- 
fected the whole body, and finds no stamina in the system to coun- 
teract it. In the fourth place, Tholuck never adopted a " positive" 
belief in the doctrine of the final blessedness of all men. It was a 
tendency of mind to such a belief, a wish, a hope that it might be 
confirmed by fact, rather than the " positive" belief itself. 

But in the fifth place, the inclination of Tholuck's mind toward 
the obnoxious doctrine, he defended not on exegetical so much as 
on dogmatical grounds. Under date of Dec. 22, 1837, he states in 
reference to expressions which he had made three years previous, 
"If I remember right, my expressions at the time (1834), were 
these : dogmatically, i. e. as a theologian I feel myself drawn 
toward this opinion (i. e. the doctrine of ultimate universal salvation) ; 
but exegetically, i. e. as an interpreter, I do not know how to justify 
it." As a speculative theologian, he was inclined to draw an infer- 
ence in favor of the final restoration of all men, from the love and 
mercy of God ; and also, from the peculiar philosophical objections 
which he has, in common with his evangelical countrymen, against 
a perpetual division, dissension, Zwiespalt, in the moral universe. 
When his mind was directed to these speculative principles, he ex- 
pressed a strong attraction toward the obnoxious doctrine. So too, 
when his mind was directed to such passages of Scripture as Acts 
3: 21. Rom. 5: 18, 11: 36. 1 Cor. 15: 22—28. Col. 1: 16. Phil. 2: 
20. Heb. 2: 10. 10: 13, 14, he sometimes expressed a still stronger 
leaning toward the doctrine. These passages, like a magnet, would 
draw him toward a belief, from which, however, he would be soon 
drawn back again by other passages, attracting in a different way. 
Accordingly he said, even at that time, that to the texts above sug- 
gested, " other important passages stand in direct opposition ; those 
which speak of eternal punishment, Matt. 25: 41,46. 1 Thess. 5: 3. 
Jude 7 ; — those which speak of the sin against the Holy Ghost, Matt. 
12: 22 ; — those which speak of Judas, Matt. 26: 24 ; — those which 
say that Christ did not die for all but for many, Matt. 26: 28, and 
20: 28." Thus troubled by the apparent opposition between two 



216 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 

classes of arguments, thus drawn by the two opposing forces, first 
one way and then the other, Tholuck often, in view of a single class 
of reasons, made expressions which, considered apart from expres- 
sions made in view of the opposite class, would give a wrong idea of 
his belief as a ivhole. The arguments, prominent in his mind at 
one moment, elicited expressions of confidence, which would be 
essentially qualified by expressions, made at another moment, when 
different arguments were more intently examined. Many of the 
illustrations, employed to reconcile Paul and James on the subject 
of faith, may be employed to reconcile Tholuck with himself on the 
subject of punishment. The remark of Prof. Sears, in reference to 
Tholuck's mental character, seems to intimate the true mode of 
making this reconciliation. The remark is, simply, that Tholuck's 
mind is not like that of Locke, or Edwards, or Robert Hall, is not 
distinguished for systematic order, or exact balance, or philosophi- 
cal discipline. The phraseology of such a man, in a particular 
mental state is not therefore to be interpreted, as the phraseology 
would be of a more deliberate and cautious philosopher, like Dr. 
Reid or Dugald Stewart. Accordingly we find, that when Tholuck 
has intended to express his opinion as a whole, the leaning of his 
mind in view of the two classes of evidence, both at the same time 
equally prominent in his mind, he has, at such times, given prefer- 
ence to the exegetical argument, above the dogmatical ; and 
to the positive declarations of Scripture, above those which 
are susceptible of a qualified sense. Thus, after a compre- 
hensive view of both sides, he said four years ago, " There- 
fore we must conclude as follows : the perfectly good, good in 
the christian sense, will be eternally happ}^ The perfectly 
sinful, those who to eternity never receive Christ, will be eternally 
unhappy. But the question remains, will any eternally reject 
Christ? If we consider the freedom of the will, and consider that it 
is the curse of sin to become more and more hardened, we cannot 
deny the possibility. Although, therefore, God has an infinity of 
methods of affecting the sinner, as many as the sun has rays, Rom. 
11: 32, 33, still men can always resist; and Matt. 12: 32 expressly 
declares, that there will be those, who will be forever unsusceptible 
of the Spirit and of forgiveness. Indeed this passage, more than any 
other, may show (diirfte darthun), that some will be eternally har- 
dened." 

In the sixth place, the more recent developments of Tholuck's 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



217 



mind discover an increased repugnance to the doctrine of universal 
salvation. Writing from Halle, Dec. 22, 1837, and stating that he 
had, in 1834, expressed a hope of the final salvation of all men, he 
says, " I confessed at the time that I did not know how to reconcile 
(this hope) with the clear passages in Scripture, which made me 
reluctant even at that time, to embrace that opinion as an unques- 
tionable truth. Mature reflection, however, on the sin against the 
Holy Ghost has made me since abandon the idea of the final restora- 
tion of all men ; for what Christ says concerning it seems too clear- 
ly to imply a degree of opposition against holy truth, which leads to 
eternal unhappiness." 

In the seventh place, the process of Tholuck's mind, in reference 
to the doctrine of universal salvation, furnishes a strong collateral 
argument against the truth of it. The opposers, rather than the 
friends of this doctrine, may derive encouragement from the au- 
thority of his name. — It is often said that American Chris- 
tians acquiesce in the belief of unending punishment under 
the influence of feeling and prejudice ; but Tholuck's feel- 
ing and prejudice have been against this belief ; he has hoped 
that it would be proved untrue, and has wished in vain to 
prove it so himself. — The belief in the doctrine of eternal punish- 
ment among us has been often ascribed to fashion ; not only, how- 
ever, has it been fashionable to disbelieve it among the more popular 
German divines, but Tholuck says even of the evangelical theolo- 
gians, " a good number of them cherish a hope of a final conversion 
of all men ; though there will be, I dare say, but few, who allow 
themselves more than a hope, and who would venture positively to 
say, that such a restoration will take place.' 1 It is then in defiance 
of fashion, that he himself absolutely abandons this hope. — The 
doctrine of eternal punishment is often said to be contrary to the 
Bible. But Dr. Tholuck, who has spent his life in the study of the 
Bible, declared even when he was struggling to disprove the doctrine, 
that, ' to be sure most of the Bible appears to assert an everlasting 
punishment of the wicked, and yet he could not but hope that this 
may be the result of a wrong interpretation.' An interpreter, then, 
even while under the blinding influence of a desire to overthrow the 
orthodox belief is compelled, if he be a fair interpreter, to acknowledge 
its harmony with the general current of the Scripture, and to confess 
his inability to accommodate the exegetical evidence in favor of it 
28 



218 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



to the speculative inferences against it. A creed can be worthy of 
but little respect, if it cannot be supported from the Scriptures, 
by a skilful philologist when stimulated by strong desire to support 
it. And not only did Dr. Tholuck acknowledge that the Bible 
presented insurmountable obstacles to the positive belief of what he 
hoped might be true ; but he also confessed that he did not feel 
warranted to declare from the pulpit what he hoped, and that the 
popular belief in the final blessedness of all men would probably 
exert a deleterious influence. If a friend to a theory acknowledges 
that it is unfit to be preached, what shall its enemies say of it ? And 
if this friend to the theory has, on mature reflection, abandoned it as 
altogether untenable, what shall we infer, save that the power of 
truth has prevailed over hope, and desire, and prejudice and fashion, 
and has brought one of the most erudite theologians in the world to 
the defence of what he once doubted, but could never positively 
disbelieve. 

Prof. Tholuck, it may be said, continues to favor, more than he 
should, the error of the Restorationists, by still retaining a hope, 
that some who die impenitent will be restored. But as he positively 
believes, that some will be lost forever, he virtually admits, that all 
the objections against the orthodox doctrine are inconclusive. If 
some are to be eternally punished, then eternal punishment is not, 
in itself, irreconcileable with the attributes of God, or the scheme of 
the mediatorial government, or the assertions of Scripture. That 
Tholuck r s theories and conjectures on the subject of a second pro- 
bation and a possible delivery of some from their adjudged punish- 
ment are not precisely what we wish they were, and hope they will 
be, is conceded. Still we must repeat, in palliation of his unseemly 
error on this subject, the noble language which himself employed in 
reference to a pernicious doctrine of the German literati : " Far be 
it from us to pronounce woes upon every one whom this fearful 
error holds captive. There is a power in the spirit of the age, 
which, although it does not release from all guilt, yet seizes, with a 
force difficult to resist, individuals as well as communities." The 
mind that has wrought out its own way into so much truth, against 
the spirit of such an age as this in Germany, is not to be inconsid- 
erately censured for its occasional aberrations. 1 

1 The preceding information, in reference to Tholuck's views of univer- 
salism, has been derived from various sources, but principally from a state- 
ment by Rev. Prof. Sears of Newton, in the Christian Watchman of Jan. 
10, 1838. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



219 



As a Commentator, Tholuck has many excellences. This would 
be anticipated from the fact, that his reading has been so various, 
and his memory is so retentive ; from his almost unequalled facility 
in acquiring language, and his peculiar intimacy with the Hebrew 
and its cognate tongues. He is able to write and converse in a 
great variety of languages, as the English, Italian, Dutch, French, 
Spanish, Latin, Greek, Arabic, Persian, and others. He is, of 
course, qualified to illustrate the sacred text by a multiplicity of 
references ; and he quotes with peculiar pertinence and effect from 
the Oriental, and especially from the Eabbinical writings. For a 
single specimen, read his comment on John 7: 37 — 39, and Rom. 
5: 7. The classical quotations too in his commentaries, and es- 
pecially in his Comm. on the Rom., are eminently valuable. His 
researches have been extended over so wide a surface, and he seizes 
such a multitude of important principles, that we ought not to look 
in his commentaries for that punctiliousness of accuracy, that close 
philosophical argumentation, which we may find in works of a nar- 
rower range. The merits of such a mind as his, are not to be de- 
termined by the number of his faults, but by the excess of his 
excellences above his faults. 

The same erudition, enthusiasm, and glow of piety which make 
Dr. Tholuck interesting as a commentator, make him still more so 
as a Lecturer. Though he is associated with such men as Weg- 
scheider and Gesenius, his lectures were attended, in 1834, more 
fully than those of either of his colleagues, and they are often more 
attractive than any, except those of Gesenius. Nor are they merely 
attractive. They excite the apprehension even in those who resist 
their argument, that, after all, the " fanaticism" of Tholuck may 
be right reason. " It is a common remark," says Prof. Sears, " that 
if a young man do not wish to become a pietist, let him avoid 
Tholuck's lecture-room." " Of the theological students at Halle 
scarcely one is to be found, who comes to the university with per- 
sonal piety. Of the five hundred who are now studying theology 
here, perhaps there are sixty serious young men, and about thirty 
hopefully pious ; and these are the fruits of Tholuck's labors. Two 
of these said to him a few days ago, that they never read the Gospel 
of John, till they heard theological lectures upon it !" For the 
number of pious students four years previous to this, see Bib. Repos. 
Vol. I. p. 426. 



220 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLT7CK. 



It was to notice Prof. Tholuck as a preacher, that the following 
sketch was more particularly designed. 

One of the most obvious peculiarities of his sermons appears in 
their plan. The introduction always, and the proposition often pre- 
cedes the announcement of the text. This however is no peculiari- 
ty of Tholuck, in comparison with other German preachers. It is 
their custom not only to have the introduction precede the text, but 
sometimes to have it founded upon a separate passage of Scripture, 
and occasionally in the delivery of the discourse, to have a hymn 
sung by the choir, between the introduction and the body of the 
sermon. The " division" of Tholuck's discourses is generally 
definite and precise, sometimes beautiful; almost always simple in 
its nature, but often artificial in its mode of expression. It is ex- 
pressed so as to be remembered, and often according to the lower 
principles of mnemonics. Hence the paronomasia and antithesis 
which are employed in the various ' topics 1 of his division. In two 
of his sermons he expresses his division thus : first, Worin, secondly, 
Warum ; in two others, thus, first the Anfang, secondly, the Fort- 
gang, and thirdly, the Ausgang. See Vol. I. p. 34, and II. p. 40. 
Vol. II. p. 63, and IV. p. 28. His most objectionable form of ex- 
pressing a division is found in Vol. II. p. 124, in his sermon on 
Acts 1: 1 — 14. 'The quickening thoughts, to which this narration 
leads us, are the following : 

1. Die Statte seines Scheidens, die Statte seines Leidens ; 

2. Verhiillet ist sein Anfang, verhiillet ist sein Ausgang; 

3. Der Scliluss von seinen Wegen ist fur die seinen Segen ; 

4. Er ist von uns geschieden und ist uns doch geblieben ; 

5. Er bleibt verhuUt den Seinen, bis er wird Mar erscheinen. 
Tholuck would perhaps apologize for such a device, by appealing 

to the alphabetical Psalms, to the genealogical table in the first of 
Matthew, and to the impression made by such an arrangement upon 
the memory, especially that of children. But it seems to be one of 
the instances in which his oriental cast of thought needs to be chas- 
tened. 

Another characteristic of Tholuck's sermons is, the absence of all 
display of learning, of abstruse thought, and long continued argu- 
ment. His freedom from literary ostentation is the more commen- 
dable, as he has so vast an amount of literature which he might dis- 
play. If the classically laden discourses of Jeremy Taylor were 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



221 



written, at least many of them, for the family and domestics at 
Golden Grove, we may well admire that Tholuck has written with 
such modest plainness for the audience of a German university. That 
he should give us likewise so little of the obscure and abstruse, is 
the more praiseworthy, as transcendentalism like his often leads its 
possessor above the comprehension of the uninitiated. His discourses 
however are by no means destitute of thought and argument, as is 
shown from such specimens as the first, third and fourth in this 
volume. That they are less solid and consecutive than many Eng- 
lish and American discourses, results from his principles of sermon- 
izing. The Germans, being excessively attached to music, devote 
a greater proportion of the hour of worship to this exercise, than we 
do. The devotional service of their churches occupies a longer 
time, than that of ours. Consequently the sermon must be brief, 
and its brevity forbids protracted argumentation. The minds of the 
hearers too are unfitted, in Tholuck's opinion, for a severe reasoning 
process, and are more in need of spiritual than of intellectual ap- 
peals. The argument of a sermon, he says, should never be scho- 
lastic, but should be founded on the moral feelings ; and in the 
house of God, the heart rather than the intellect, should lead the 
way into the truth. 

It must of course be conceded, that different customs of society 
demand different modes of pulpit address ; yet when we consider, 
that the Sabbath is the great day, and in many cases the only day 
for popular instruction on the doctrines of religion, it seems to be an 
obvious necessity, that sermons should be rich in instructive matter ; 
by all means not too abstruse, by no means too simple. Is not the 
elevated theological character of some portions of Great Britain and 
the United States a comment on the utility of the didactic and argu- 
mentative style of preaching, common in those regions ? 

Another characteristic of Tholuck's sermons is, the elevation and 
richness of religious sentiment which they display. His standard of 
christian character is much more like that of Paul in such chapters 
as the eighth of Romans, than is common among British and Amer- 
ican divines. He loves to exhibit and dilate upon the vast difference 
between a renewed and an unrenewed man. His religious feel- 
ings, too, as exhibited in his sermons are deep, full, overflowing. 
He evidently has thought for himself, and as a consequence has felt 
for himself. Hence the originality of his emotions ; his freedom 



222 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



from stereotyped trains of feeling, and his new, fresh, warm senti- 
ment, gushing forth from a full heart. He everywhere shows that 
he has drunk deep at the sacred fountain ; that he has sympathized 
and held intimate communion with the old Prophets, and imbued 
his soul with the spirit of Paul. 

Tholuck's sermons are also characterized by liveliness and ex- 
uberance of fancy. He is a poet in his prose. His imagination knows 
no bounds. He resembles in this respect the poets of antiquity ; 
he takes his descriptions from real life, not at second hand from the 
pictures of others. The advantages to be derived from reading his 
sermons are similar to those derivable from the ancient, and from all 
other original authors. His style, as well as his mind, exhibits the 
fertility of the Orientals ; and every word seems to be pregnant with 
life. That there is often a gorgeousness of fancy, an excess of 
figurative allusion, an indulgence in paronomasia and other conceits, 
we must admit ; and where is the oriental writer who has not the 
same characteristics ? And where is the poet of great fertility of 
imagination, who does not sometimes appear exuberant ? Tholuck 
has genius in the popular sense of that term, and therefore his faults 
are those of genius, positive rather than negative. With the pliant, 
exhaustless, and emphatically living German language for his instru- 
ment, we do not wonder that his fancy often revels, like that of an 
Asiatic. 

Tholuck's sermons are characterized by vigor and boldness. His 
quickness of thought, his rapidity of transition often give an air of 
abruptness to his style, and sometimes an obscurity ; but they also 
save it from tameness, and that feeble, torpid correctness, which is 
the innocence of a compiler, rather than the virtue of a thinking 
man. The energetic boldness of his style is equal to that of his 
sentiment. When we read his discourses, we are to remember that 
they were preached in the very citadel of rationalism, to young men 
who were cherishing that peculiar independence, and unmanagable 
self-esteem characteristic of a university life ; to candidates for 
the ministry, who had no sober view of the nature of their office , 
but looked down with contempt upon the religion of the heart ; to an 
audience, the vast majority of whom were not only violent in their 
prejudices against the preacher's doctrine, but still more so against 
his religious feeling. The theological students at the German uni- 
versities are sometimes required to attend divine service on the 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



223 



Sabbath ; and sometimes, like the law and medical students, are 
allowed to consult their own inclinations on the subject. The ma- 
jority of the professors, theological as well as others, are seldom seen 
in the house of God. Tholuck usually attracts throngs of the 
Rationalists to hear him, and the boldness of his sermons cannot Tje 
properly appreciated, unless it be remembered, that they were writ- 
ten for infidels who were expecting soon to occupy the pulpit ; to 
that class of infidels, who are peculiarly unsusceptible of religious 
influence ; to men who were enjoying the daily instructions of 
Gesenius and " the standard-bearer of Rationalism," Wegscheider. 
But, notwithstanding the imperviousness of his auditory to religious 
impression, Tholuck is by no means like one that beats the air. By 
his boldness of appeal he often produces great excitement of feeling. 
There is one sermon in particular, that in Vol. I. pp. 147 — 160, 
which elicited peculiar violence of resentment, and may be now 
alluded to, as an exhibition of Tholuck's moral courage. 

The sermon is entitled " The Horrible Exchange." It is founded 
on Matt. 27: 15 — 26. Its object is to compare the guilt of those 
who believe in the mere humanity of Christ, with the guilt of those 
who cried, 4 release Barabbas and crucify Jesus.' To hearers, who 
look up to him with the expressive eye of astonishment, indignation, 
or conscious guilt, he announces his design to describe first, the 
horrible exchange that unbelieving Israel made, when, instead of 
Jesus the Son of God they chose Jesus Barabbas ; and secondly, 
the horrible exchange that the unbelieving world now make, when, 
instead of considering Jesus the Son of God and man, they choose 
to consider him as the mere child of man. After depicting the 
barbarous conduct of Israel in preferring the criminal to the Messiah, 
he proceeds to show that the denial of Christ's divine nature is a 
virtual charge of haughtiness, presumption and blasphemy against 
him ; that it represents him as a robber of the divine glory, in his 
aspiring to receive divine homage ; as a malefactor, who himself 
needed expiation and whose cross could be nothing better than a 
scaffold, on which he died for his own iniquities. He follows the 
pretended Saviour to the final judgment, and describes the manner 
in which he must be condemned for his treasonable claims. He 
then adds a pungent reproof to the candidates for the sacred office, 
who thus impeach the virtue of Jesus, and closes with a solemn 
prayer, that their hearts may not accuse them, in the holiest hours 
of their life, for paying worship to a peccable child of man. 



224 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLHCK. 



The Stud, und Krit. Vol. VIII. 243 — 4, while it sanctions the 
'logical process of the sermon, condemns the revolting terms, in 
which it depicts the consequences of the humanitarian theory ; and 
decides, that the argument is pressed to a greater extent, and in a 
bolder way, than the religious sensibilities of an audience will justify. 

Fervid and bold, however, as the discourses of Tholuck are, they 
are distinguished, in a still higher degree, by tenderness and child- 
like simplicity. It has been said of him, that " he has read every 
thing ;" it may also be said of him, that he feels everything. One 
of his characteristic expressions is, " When God smites, the smitten 
man should receive the blow not as the stone would, but as the man 
would, or rather as the trustful child of God. Is the cup bitter? 
man should have sensibility to taste the bitterness, but he should also 
taste the sweet drops in the cup, which are the love of his Father in 
heaven." The delicacy of sentiment, the gentleness of manner, the 
childlike sweetness and sincerity, which characterize the preaching 
of Tholuck, are conspicuous in the second, fourth, and fifth sermons 
of this volume, and also in the notes, pp. 176, 7. 181, 2. 191, 4, 5, 8. 

There is another peculiarity of our authors sermons, which de- 
serves attention ; their variety of thought and expression. Possess- 
ing great constitutional excitability, he feels an enthusiasm on a 
great variety of subjects ; and as his themes vary in their nature, 
the variations in his style are correspondent. Being appropriate to 
his subject, his style is almost as free from monotony, as truth itself is 
free. There is sometimes the softness of an infant, and sometimes 
the impetuosity of a war-horse ; now withering rebuke, and now al- 
most lover-like fondness ; here gorgeousness of fancy ; there refine- 
ment of analysis ; great keenness of perception intermingled with 
ease and calmness of sentiment. From one sermon, a reader might 
form an opinion that its author was too much inclined to extrava- 
gance of declamation ; from another, to severity of personal re- 
proof; from a third, to the narrative style; from a fourth, to the 
expository and paraphrastic. It were indeed wonderful, if amid such 
multifarious variety of matter and expression, there were not some 
offences against chasteness and prosaic accuracy. His German is 
not the most classical ; and, as a writer as well as a man, he must 
be ranked among the sensitive rather than the calculating. 

In his manner of delivery, Tholuck is animated but not boisterous ; 
neat but not fastidious. He writes his sermons, but does not read 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



225 



them ; neither, in strictness of terms, does he preach memoriter. 
He is careful to retain in memory the course of thought and the 
most striking illustrations of the written sermon, but beyond this 
trusts entirely to extemporaneous impulse. It need not be added, 
that a man of his quick sensibility and rich treasures of language, 
is fluent and even voluble in his unpremeditated addresses. " In the 
power of composition and oratory," says one who has frequently 
heard him, " Tholuck stands unequalled in Germany." 

It has already been remarked, that our author's faithfulness of ap- 
peal to the conscience is sometimes offensive to his hearers. In 
general, however, his preaching is by no means unpopular. " The 
university of Halle," says Prof. Sears, " has no place of worship 
attached to it; it has, however, a morning service once in two 
weeks, in one of the principal churches in the city. The preacher, 
who is appointed by the King of Prussia, was Prof. Marks ; but 
when Dr. Tholuck came to Halle, and was appointed associate 
preacher, he drew so much larger audiences than Prof. Marks, that 
the latter resigned." Whatever may be thought of the adaptedness 
of Tholuck's sermons to affect an American audience, they certainly 
do affect, deeply and beneficially, the audiences for which they are 
intended. 1 The critic, before he pass sentence upon their general 

1 The following extract from the review of Tholuck's sermons by J. 
Mailer in the Stud, und Krit. Vol. VIII. pp. 239, 240, will show the esti- 
mation in which his sermons are held by many of his own countrymen. 

" Everything presents itself to the mind of Prof. Tholuck in large outline. 
It is foreign from his cast of mind to analyze any subject minutely, so as to 
exhibit all its elements ; to define any doctrine with precision in all its rela- 
tions. There are always, if 1 may so express myself, great masses, which 
he sets in motion so as best to promote his own design. The happiness of 
heaven, and the pain of perdition, the struggles of our life on earth, the 
forebodings and dreams of childhood, the emptiness and misery of later 
years that are passed without religion, the terrors of the hour of death, and 
the ecstasies of the hour when we are born into a new life ; these, dissimilar 
topics he brings together, with a strong hand, so as to form one picture, 
the central figure of which is the sacred form of the Son of God ; and he 
penetrates with these themes into the inmost'recesses of the heart, now pro- 
ducing in it the deepest pain, and now raising it to the highest joy. For the 
feeling of grief at the power of sin, of longing after the unknown God and 
Redeemer, of joy at the possession of his grace, of desire to possess it in its 
highest degree, of silent resignation to the will of God, for all such feeling 
he has the liveliest, the most pathetic, the tenderest expressions. Bold and 
brilliant images are always at his command. Not only does the Holy Bible 

29 



226 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THOLUCK. 



character, should summon up, in ideal presence, not a New Eng- 
land auditory, nor a Scottish, but a German. He should attend to 
the impressive and venerable rites with which the delivery of the 
sermons was accompanied, to the music from thrilling and deep- 
toned instruments, from the powerful choir of men, and the still 
more affecting one of boys. 1 The best comment, however, that can 
be made on the preaching of Dr. Tholuck is this ; it is often instru- 
mental, through the divine blessing, in effecting that radical trans- 
formation of character, without which no man can see the Lord. 

open to him its treasure-chambers, but the sages of Greece, the ancient and 
modern teachers of the church, the christian lyric poets present him their 
most beautiful flowers, and lay at his feet the most apposite expressions. Nor 
are allusions to unsanctified poets rejected from his sermons, but the world, 
willing or unwilling, is made serviceable to the sacred orator. There is 
given to Dr. Tholuck the power of enchantment over mind. His discourses 
possess, in a degree altogether peculiar, everything which secures the most 
powerful, immediate impression upon the hearers. We can very easily 
imagine how often a student, having never before listened to an animated 
discourse, which penetrated into the inmost soul, and who has therefore 
gradually accustomed himself to look upon a certain kind of dullness and 
tediousness as belonging to the very essence of a sermon, and constituting 
its edifying quality, when he has once strayed into Dr. Tholuck's church, 
would hang with fixed eye upon the lips of the preacher, and be con- 
founded at the new and wonderful power of language with which he was 
addressed." 

1 The following is a condensed description of the rites, more impressive 
probably upon Germans than they would be upon us, which were connected 
with the delivery of the fourth sermon in this Volume. ' We sat,' says 
Prof. Sears, " directly in front of the pulpit, and when the congregation 
paused, we could just hear, at the altar at our extreme left, the accents of 
the preacher uttering the Lord's prayer ; then suddenly voices of melody 
broke upon our ear from the orchestra in the gallery of the opposite ex- 
treme of the house. The preacher and the choir were facing each other, 
and responding; while the whole congregation, standing, occupied the vast 
space between.-— During the responses the organ was silent. Then follow- 
ed that which is called ' the chief song,' in which everything, that could 
utter a sound, united. In these shouts of the multitude, and tumultuous 
clangor of the instruments, which appear like an attempt to carry the heart 
by storm, there is, in my opinion, something too gross and physical to have 
the happiest effect. Before the hymn was concluded, the preacher was 
standing in the pulpit in true German style, in a fixed posture, -with his 
hands clasped before his breast, and his eyes turned upward," etc. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 

BY 

DR. L. J. RUCKERT. 



THE DOCTRINE 

OF THE 

RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



A COMMENTARY ON THE FIFTEENTH CHAPTER OF THE FIRST EPISTLE 
TO THE CORINTHIANS. 1 



This chapter includes the last principal section of the Epistle, the 
defence and development of the doctrine of the resurrection, against 
certain deniers of it in Corinth. Who these were and what it was 
particularly which they denied will be a theme for inquiry at the 
appropriate place. The importance of this section is generally ac- 
knowledged, as it contributes the greater part of what we know 
respecting the form, in which the doctrine had developed itself in the 
mind of our apostle. A high value he evidently attached to it. 
Accordingly he handles it with much fulness, and, as we shall per- 
ceive, very systematically. Hence also the special introduction 
which precedes the consideration of it. 

Chap. XV. v. 1, 2. I now call your attention, brethren, to the Gos- 
pel which I preached unto you, which ye received, and by which ye 
stand, by which also ye shall be saved, if ye hold fast the word 
which I declared unto you, unless ye have believed in vain. 

The construction demanded by Heydenreich and Billroth a makes 
so harsh an inversion of the passage, that on no account can we 

1 See Note A, at the close of the Article. 

2 Namely, y»«^% vp.iv x'm Uyco ^yyiUa^ ifitv to ^ayysXlov o sv' W yeZ- 
>.ouur t v vucv o y.al x.t.I. ' I call to your remembrance with what discourse (or 
what was the nature of the Gospel which) I preached,' etc. 



->30 THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 

adopt it. Billroth remarks indeed, that the meaning of the first 
verses will be wholly disfigured by the common and obvious mode 
of construction. It may be shown, however, that this is not 
the case. We accordingly connect together the words ' I now 
call your attention to the Gospel,' etc. 1 The usual meaning of 
yru'gt&a is ' to make known.' But Paul could not have now, for the 
first time, imparted to them the knowledge of that with which they 
had been long acquainted, and hence the common explanation of the 
verb ' to remind,' ' to call to remembrance.' Since, however, it 
neither has nor can have this meaning, while Paul elsewhere 
makes use of the phrase in transitions as synonymous with the ex- 
pression, ' I do not wish to have you ignorant* I choose instead 
of attaching to it a new signification, rather to acquiesce in the 
mere general sense, ' I call your attention to.' The Gospel which 
he had preached to them, as explained by himself in the third and 
subsequent verses, was the knowledge of the death and resurrec- 
tion of Christ. To what the Gospel thus contained, namely, 
to the fact that the Gospel which they had heard and received 
related to the death and resurrection of Jesus, he now invites 
their attention, in order that they might remember that to this, 
with all its consequences, including the doctrine of a general res- 
urrection, they must either adhere, or else cease to be Christians ; 
because, as he maintained, the denial of the resurrection of the 
dead would result in a denial of the resurrection of Christ, and of the 
redemption accomplished by him. He now makes the preliminary 
remark, that they would not renounce the name of Christians, 
they would not abjure the Gospel. Therefore he hopes that the 
more he could impress upon their hearts the relation in which 
they stood to the Gospel, the more certainly he should attain his 
object. This appears in the subsequent position, namely, 6 which 
ye have received.' 3 The addition is important. He had not only 
announced the truth, but they had received it thus ; they had ac- 
knowledged it as true. They would not now resort to the subterfuge 
of pretending that they had not understood it, or that they had not 
originally believed it. ' In which ye also stand.'— He now advances 

1 yvwQiLcD vf.ttv to svuyy. x.r.X. 

2 In which case we are not to press the meaning of particular words too 

«h>seiy. . , 

3 The verb has a like meaning in John 1: 11, < his own received him not. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



231 



a step higher. The Corinthians had not merely heard the Gospel ; 
they had not simply received it ; they also stood in it, that is, they 
adhered firmly to a belief of it ; they were still Christians ; they had 
not yet rejected the Gospel. 1 The remark is not intended to flatter 
or delude them, because all to whom he wrote, firmly believed the 
doctrine that Christ died and rose again. Otherwise, he could by no 
means have built an argument upon it, as he has done in verses 13, 
16, 20. All, however, had not drawn the same conclusion in res- 
pect to a resurrection strictly considered as he had. But this con- 
sequently was to be believed, and he employs it in order to lay as 
firm a foundation as possible for his subsequent reasoning. 1 By which 
also ye are saved.' This is the highest point in the climax. Thereby 
they obtain salvation. 2 The apostle now subjoins a condition in the 
words ' if ye hold fast the declaration which I made known to you.' 3 
If we take these words together, as most preceding commentators 
have done, we must recognize a transposition, by which the object is 
placed before the verb, a circumstance not by any means impossible.' 4 
The word xait'ytiv means' to hold fast.' 5 An indirect question being 
implied, this firm adherence must relate rather to the memory than 
to the convictions of the mind. The apostle cannot, however, be nat- 
urally supposed to make any wide distinction. Rather a certain 
fulness of meaning is to be attached to the verb, including both a 
remembrance of what had been delivered to them, and a true, in- 
ward adherence to the object of their recollection. He uses el and 
not lav because he does not intend to represent the thing as pro- 
blematical and possible, but as certain and real. We rightly translate 
tivi koyct) ' in which discourse or declaration,' not ' in which word f 

1 It is clear that the Perfect tense does not point, as some think, to a past 
time. 

2 Many suppose, but not correctly, that the Present tense is here used for 
the future. This would be the case only when au-d-ijrai pointed to nothing 
but to the attainment of future eternal happiness. But as it is an expression 
for salvation, as a whole, and while this relates to a continued process, as 
well to what has been already gained as to what is to be yet hoped for,, 
so, according as the thing is presented in each particular instance, the 
Present tense may be as appropriately employed, as the Perfect inEph.2:58,. 
or the Aoristin R,om. 8:24. 

3 Tin luyy-KaTt/STi. 

4 On the other hand, if we connect these words with yvwitlu* v. I, then 
xuri/ict would stand by itself, to which Paul would have certainly added 
avio. 5 I Cor. 11:2 



232 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



or, if we take the Dative in a causal sense, ' on account of which 
declaration,' that is, ' on which ground or reason.' The words have 
the latter signification in Acts 10: 29, and thus Kypke interprets 
them here. But this is impossible, because there is no reference to 
the ground or reason which had induced the apostle to announce his 
message. We are to understand here the theme of his preaching, 
thus ' if ye possess and hold fast what I announced unto you as the 
Gospel.' To this adherence to the word preached, and indeed to all 
included under it, they must stand firm. There was to be no nar- 
rowing down or mutilation, which some individuals endeavored to 
effect. In these circumstances, when he felt constrained to awaken 
their attention, it was very proper to assure them that they could 
not attain the salvation, which he had declared to them as the fruit 
of the Gospel, and which unquestionably they still expected to enjoy, 
if they did not comply with this condition. I therefore see no reason 
at all, why this interpretation of the words should disfigure the 
thought. — ' Unless ye have believed in vain. 1 The meaning of 
tlxrj is ' rashly,' ' without ground.' The entire point will be eluci- 
dated in the course of the subsequent reasoning, where the apostle 
shows that if there be no resurrection of the dead, then preaching 
and faith are vain, and salvation is impossible. 2 Looking forward to 
this position, he here subjoins a remark entirely incidental but not 
without severity, and which stands in connection with the clause 4 by 
which ye shall be saved, if ye hold fast,' etc. ' In attaining salvation 
through the Gospel, it is an implied point that you remain true to 
whatever it contains.' As if recollecting himself, and intending to 
explain what he had before said, he adds, in an ironical manner, 
' It would be somewhat thus, — ye would have believed without good 
reason, if they are in the right, who by subverting the belief in a 
resurrection, would make the whole Gospel a fable.' 

V. 3, 4. For I delivered to you among the first what I even re- 
ceived, that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and 
that he was buried, and that he rose again on the third day, accord- 
ing to the Scriptures. 

1 The pleonasm lying in f^roc ei t u», has been remarked upon in 1 Cor. 14: 
5. In respect to the present passage. Kypke has collected ten like instances 
from Lucian. 

2 Comp. verses 14, 17, seq. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



233 



These verses contain a summary of the contents of the Gospel 
which had been preached to the Corinthians. ' I delivered what I 
received.' He had received the historical fact perhaps only by tra- 
dition, while the import of it was indeed ' by the revelation of 
Jesus Christ. 1 What had been entrusted to him, he communi- 
cated to them, and that too 4 among the first.' 2 If ngmoig is in 
the neuter gender, the phrase shows that the death and resur- 
rection of Jesus was one of the first topics which he communi- 
cated to them. Accordingly it would seem to follow, that he con- 
sidered it as the most important doctrine, the fundamental principle 
of the whole Christian system. On this supposition, the difficulty 
which I have experienced entirely disappears, 3 and it is remarkable 
that in my manifold consideration of the passage, this signification 
of it did not occur to me. I will not pronounce it a false exposition, 
but yet it ill accords with my feelings. 4 Paul does not delay long 
in mentioning the death of Christ. It was enough here to indicate it 
as having happened, though he subjoins, without explanation, two 
qualifying clauses. First, ' he died for our sins.' This he deemed 
necessary, because he had awakened in them the feeling that they 
were no longer in their sins, verses 4, 17. Secondly, it was 1 ac- 
cording to the Scriptures,' that is, it was in close correspondence 
with, and a fulfilment of the predictions which the Old Testament 
contained respecting the death of Christ. It is well known how 
often in the Gospels, Christ referred to the fact that the Scriptures 
would be only fulfilled by his sufferings and death. That there 
must have been many indications of this sort is clear. 5 Paul, as we 
see, does not name the passage to which he refers. One naturally 
thinks of the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah. The assertion might have 
appeared important to the apostle in so far as it was a testimony, 
not to the event itself which was undoubted, but to the importance of 
it, since an antecedent announcement had been made in the writings 

1 Gal. 1: 12. 

2 Chrysostom explains h nudroic of time, 1 at first,' ' in the beginning,' 
t; ceo/fjC, ov vvv. 

3 See Note B, at the end of this Article. 

4 Partly on the ground of the proximity of the word vfifv, and partly, as it 
appears to me, if this sense had been intended, it would have been written 

TOVTO 7100JXOV. 

6 Luke 24: 25—27. 

30 



234 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



of the Old Testament which were regarded as sacred. The men- 
tion of the burial of Jesus may have been intended to show that he 
actually died, and to remove the cavil that possibly he was not truly 
dead, and so could not have been raised to life, but was resuscitated 
from a condition resembling death. Everything, however, which 
befals the literally dead had befallen him. His body was laid in the 
tomb, and was there confined three days. Finally his resurrection 
was according to the Scriptures. 1 

V. 5 — 7. And that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve, then 
he appeared to above five hundred brethren at once, of whom the 
greater part remain to this present time, though some are fallen 
asleep ; then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. 

A confirmation of the fact from the instances of his appearance 
after he arose. Here is not the place to institute a strict compari- 
son of the occurrences which in this passage are barely mentioned 
with those recorded in the Gospels, or to investigate how far they do, 
or do not, harmonize. A few words must suffice. 4 He was seen 
of Cephas.' This is nowhere else mentioned, with the exception of 
Luke 24: 34, and there only in a word. 4 Then of the twelve.' 
From the use of the adverb 4 then,' it might seem that the appear- 
ances are named in the order of time, so far as Paul was made ac- 
quainted with it. But how perfectly such knowledge was possessed 
by him, or whether it was actually possessed by any other one, can 
never be determined. The mention of the ' twelve' has occasioned 
some attempts to introduce Matthias. It has been long acknow- 
ledged, however, that the apostles are here alone referred to, though 
but eleven in number ; or but ten if there be an allusion to the narra- 
tive in John 20: 19, 23. They are called ' the twelve' with the 
same propriety as the terms decemviri, centumviri are employed, or 
as Xenophon mentions ' the thirty' after the death of Critias. It is, 
in a sense, the title of their office. ' Of above five hundred brethren 
at once.' The adverb 1 above' is equivalent to ' more than' as used 
in Mark 14: 5. 2 ' Brethren,' means the same with ' disciples' 3 as 

1 He might have referred to Ps. 16: 10. Is. 53: 10. 

2 See eTzavm Mark 14: 5. The construction in which a case connected with 
a verb stands instead of a Genitive which should be used is common in Latin 
numerals. In Greek, definite examples of it are wanting. Those men- 
tioned in Matthiae Sect. 455. 4. are insufficient. 3 iia&rftal. 



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235 



used by the evangelists in the wider sense. In respect to the 
event here mentioned it cannot be determined whether it is one 
which we find in the evangelists. Matt. 28: 16 has been suggested, 
but there the eleven only are named, while the concluding clause in 
verse 17, ' some doubted,' leaves us uncertain in respect to the pres- 
ence of others. Against Heumann's conjecture that the assembling 
at the time of the ascension is meant, 1 it may be said that the num- 
ber, 4 one hundred and twenty,' 2 is less opposed inasmuch as there 
may have been a greater number on the Mount of Olives than had 
subsequently remained together in Jerusalem, than the circum- 
stance that Paul names two subsequent appearances, if we sup- 
pose that he follows the order of time. The additional remark 
that the larger part of the five hundred still lived, some only having 
fallen asleep, appears to have been designed to exhibit them as 
witnesses whose testimony might still be examined. An appearance 
made particularly to a James alone is not elsewhere mentioned in 
our authorities. 3 That James the brother of the Lord is meant can 
be regarded as probable, since at that time he was in high esteem, 
while the brother of John was not then living. Heumann's notion 
that Thomas is to be understood is unworthy of notice. Equally 
ignorant are we in respect to the last appearance, ' to all the apos- 
tles.' Some have referred to John 20: 16 when Thomas was present, 
he having been absent on a previous occasion. Others take the 
word ' apostles' in a wider sense. But the conclusion of the whole 
matter is that we know nothing about it. 

V. 8, 9. And last of all he appeared to me also, as one born out 
of due time, for I am the least of the apostles, and am not worthy to 
be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. 

Finally Paul names himself as among those to whom the risen 
Saviour had appeared. We inquire when and at what place ? On 



1 Luke 24: 50. Acts 1: 6 seq. 2 Acts 1: 15. 

3 What Jerome narrates in his Catal. Script. Eccl., from the Apocryphal 
Gospel according to the Hebrews, has perhaps as little credibility as it has 
harmony with the order of time. [The appearance to James is mentioned 
by this Apocryphal writer as occurring immediately after the resurrec- 
tion.— Tr.] 



236 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



the road to Damascus, is the usual reply. But it has been already 
shown that it is by no means certain that Paul actually saw the Sa- 
viour on that occasion. 1 If he did not, then we must here resort to 
a later vision. In reality this does not alter the case, for the appearance 
on that journey can be well explained only as an internal one, to the 
mind ; and what is of essential importance, such a manifestation would 
not prove the resurrection of Jesus. If it proved any thing, it would 
prove only his existence, but it would not show his previous return to 
life in a corporeal resurrection. Both ideas were, however, closely 
united in the mind of Paul. He could think of a living Christ only 
as one who had risen, and so of one not risen only as one dead ; at 
least, his course of argument in the thirteenth and the following 
verses rests on this ground. If thus the life of the Lord was made 
certain to him by what had happened, so also was his resurrection. 
The mention of the fact that he also had seen the Lord leads him to 
express a very humble opinion of himself. This must have been 
the genuine out-flowing of his inward feelings ; the more so, as there 
was no external inducement for such an expression. We then learn 
from him the ground of these feelings — grief for his early persecu- 
tion of the church of Christ — grief, as it should seem, which did not 
leave him while he lived, its sting ever more active within him, 
stimulating him to the most indefatigable efforts for the cause against 
which he had once turned the whole force of his powerful will. 
This expression, that Jesus had appeared to him last of all, springs 
from his emotions, while he still subjoins, ' as to one born out 
of due time.' 2 That the noun means nothing else than a prema- 
ture birth is shown so incontrovertibly by Wetstein in a multitude of 
instances adduced from physicians, grammarians and other writers, 
that we may fully coincide with Fritzsche 3 in his refutation of the 
exposition of Schultess, 4 provided even that this exposition strongly 
commended itself on other grounds, which is by no means the case. 
From the earliest times downward, unspeakable pains have been 
taken in order to determine the sense in which Paul could say that 

1 See Note C, at the end of this Article. 2 ojoneQSt to) txTQajjuari. 

3 De Nonnullis Post. Pauli ad Corintliios Epistolae Locis. Dissertatio I. 
Lips. 1823. p. 6 seq. 

4 First published in a Review of Kuinoel's Comment, on N. T. in the N. 
Theol. Annalen ; then in opposition to Emmerlung's Bemerkungen in Kiel 
and Tzschirner's Analekten 1. St, 2, and as a Defence of the same St. 4, 212. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



237 



he 4 was born out of due time*' Here also I must agree with 
Fritzsche, that we are not to seek for an explanation by a special 
search over the wide regions of possibility, 1 but we are to look 
simply and only at the apostle's own words in verse ninth. A prema- 
ture birth, (for he could not have understood the word of a monstrous, 
misshapen birth), is feeble, imperfectly formed, rarely able to live. 
Thus Paul calls himself a premature birth, being as unworthy of the 
high name of an apostle, as a premature birth is of the name of a 
man ; as little fitted for the duties of an apostle as that is for a nat- 
ural life in the world. 2 The phrase is softened by prefixing 4 as it 
were,' 4 just as if,' 3 and accordingly the whole verse runs thus, 
4 Last of all he appeared to me also, who am among them, as it were, 
a premature birth, the poorest and most unworthy of all.' Verse 9 
contains the explanation, 4 For I am the least of the apostles, who 
am not worthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the 
church of God.' 4 1 am the least of the apostles,' as in Eph. 3: 8, he 
declares that he is 4 least of all saints,' and on this account, (for 
this appears to be the connection expressed by the relative 
4 who'), 4 1 am, (properly speaking), unworthy 4 to be called an 
apostle.' It is by no means necessary to give the verb 4 to be called,' 5 
another sense as is done by Heydenreich and Flatt. The ground of 
his un worthiness is his former persecution of the church of God. 

V. 10. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace 
which was in me was not in vain, for I labored more abundantly 
than they all ; yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me. 

1 Dura de vocabulo txTQafia ad P. consilium connivent. 

2 Paul writes zo txrQwua^ not txr^wfia n, which indeed he might have done, 
and it would have contributed to soften the harshness of the expression ; 
but, he was neither compelled to do this, as he wished to compare himself 
with the other apostles, he being among them 1 the premature one,' that is, 
the feeblest and weakest of them all ; nor, could it have been expressed by 
using to) in the sense of tivl, a form which is altogether foreign to the 
dialect. It is foreign to it, for there are retained in 1 Thess. 4: 6, iv rot 
7t(>dy/uaTi. ' In anything,' there means iv firfievl ttq. 

3 (lonsQai. See Longinus 7r, v\p. in VVetstein. 

4 The word utavdg is equivalent to at-iog Matt. 3: 11, Luke 3: 16. It is 
used for a£iog John I: 17. 

5 ■AaXeiotiai, 



238 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



So deep was this feeling of his great unworthiness, while so pro- 
found also was his consciousness of the labors which he had per- 
formed since the grace of God had called him to the apostleship, 
notwithstanding his unworthiness, that he cannot permit it to pass 
unnoticed. It would thus augment the glory of Him who had given 
him strength to labor. ' Through the grace of God he is what he is,' 1 
and indeed 2 his grace, which he hath manifested in him, 3 was not in 
vain, for he labored more than they all ; yet, it was not he but the 
grace of God which was with him,' that is, which accompanied him 
and sustained his labors. 4 

V. 11. Whether, therefore, I, or they, so we preach and so ye 
believed. 

This concludes what is preliminary to the main discussion, namely, 
that the message respecting the death and resurrection of Christ was 
taught unanimously by all the apostles, and was by them received as 
the foundation of their faith. ' So ye believed.' Thus ye put 
confidence in it ; that is, in this message ye received Christianity. 
' Believed' is used in the same sense here, as in Rom. 13: 11 and 
elsewhere. 

V. 12. Now if Christ be preached that he is raised from the dead, 
how say some among you that there is no resurrection of the dead ? 5 

He now passes to the controversy itself. The apostle presupposes 
two points when he inquires, how it was possible, that while Christ 
was preached as if raised from the dead, there yet should be some 
among the Corinthians who denied the general resurrection. First, 
no one disbelieved the resurrection of Christ. That there were such 

1 The words ' I am,' imply more than if he had said, 1 1 am an apostle.' It 
includes not only his apostolical office, but his fitness and his labors devoted 
to a fulfilment of the duties of that office. 

2 1 Indeed,' this is the force of y.ul in this place. 

3 The phrase tj us tfis is the same as ?]v ivdeiiard lv sjuol 1 which he has 
made operative in respect to me.' 

4 tj ovv ifioi-rj ovvsQyovod fioi. 

5 On the passage v. 12 — 19, comp. a Dissertation of Knapp in his Opus- 
culis varii Argumenti, Fasc. I. 299. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



239 



persons whether Jews or Gentiles is not at all probable. It is in- 
deed inconceivable that any man could be then found, who would 
acknowledge a crucified but not a risen Messiah as the Lord, and 
the author of salvation to man. The other presupposition is, that 
a belief in the resurrection of Christ and a denial of the general 
resurrection involved a contradiction, for such a contradiction is 
indicated by the relation between the first and second members, and 
by the interrogative nwg ' how.' 1 But in order to a correct estimate 
of his confutation — for his exhibition is to be viewed in such a light 
rather than as a direct proof of the doctrine of the resurrection — it 
will be indispensable that we inquire, in the first place, who denied 
the doctrine, and secondly what were the points, particularly, which 
they denied. If we could establish one of these two points with 
any certainty, then we might arrive at a tolerably safe conclusion 
in respect to the other. But since Paul has given no definite in- 
formation in respect to the two points, nowhere intimating who 
were the deniers, or what was the nature of their skepticism, 
while his refutation is so constructed, that one point perhaps ex- 
cepted, we can determine with certainty nothing relating to it, 
we are thus compelled to remain without any full or explicit in- 
formation in respect to either of the topics. That we may, however, 
ascertain what is practicable, we will inquire what these deniers of 
the resurrection rejected. In what way did they refuse credence to 
it ? Did they reject the personal, continued existence of the soul 
after death ? Such must be the ground which those assume who 
think that they have detected Sadducees or Epicureans in the 
persons in question. 2 They rest their opinion on verses 18 seq., 29, 
33. Those who discover traces of Epicureanism refer particularly 
to verse 32. I must, however, oppose all conjectures of this sort. 
The argument against it, employed by Ziegler, 3 namely, that 
Paul, if he had been contending with the Sadducees, would have 
done so by drawing his proofs from the Scriptures, is certainly too 
weak, inasmuch as we do not know but that he might have found 
reasons which would apply also against the Sadducees ; and even if 

1 See Gal. 2: 14. 

2 Heurnann, Michaelis Einl. 1229, Storr Opus. Acad. II. 333., Flatt, 
Knapp, 310., Bertholcit Einl. 3329 seq. 

3 Theol. Beitr. 11.36. 



240 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



the scope of his reasoning were appropriate to the Sadducees, this 
would not remove the conjecture that there were Epicurean oppo- 
nents. But what is decidedly opposed to every interpretation of the 
kind is the fact, that those to whom Paul refers believed in the resur- 
rection of Christ. This is undeniable, for Paul seizes hold of this 
position as firmly as possible. He not only does not intimate that it 
was doubted, but he makes it the basis of his subsequent course of 
reasoning. This he could not have actually done, if there had been 
any place, for doubt. Besides, as has been already remarked, neither 
the Sadducees nor Epicureans were so spiritually inclined that they 
could have believed in a Christ who had not risen from the dead. 
We may, therefore, conclude that they [the opponents] were not of 
these sects. That they denied the doctrine of a future existence is 
not at all conceivable. Christianity offered to its adherents so little 
that was joyful in this present life, that without the hope which it 
brings with it — and this Paul as the promulger of it concealed as little 
in his sermons as in his letters — they would have been at most only 
men possessing an elevated natural morality, on which ground cer- 
tainly such multitudes would not have received it as actually did re- 
ceive it. Besides, in the anticipated approaching coming of Christ [then 
prevalent] one might have hoped for eternal life without the separating 
process of death. That life must have been at all events expected, 
else one could not have been a Christian. The reasoning of the apos- 
tle may, however, seem favorable to the opinion which I reject, so far 
as he actually declares that he has to do with those who denied an im- 
mortality. 1 The ground of this opinion, nevertheless, lies only in 
the fact that for him as a Jew and a Pharisee, 2 the doctrines of the 
continued existence of the soul and of the resurrection were so 
mingled, that whoever denied the one could not firmly adhere to the 
other, and therefore Paul, without fully knowing what was maintain- 
ed or denied at Corinth, and looking at the whole subject from his 
own point of view, supposed that he might treat the opposers of the 
doctrine of the resurrection as opposers of a belief in a future life. 3 
In regard to the traces of an Epicurean sentiment, which some per- 
sons imagine that they find in verse 32, we must remark that the 
passage is a proof of the contrary. Paul there informs his readers 



1 Comp. verses, 19, 29 seq. 2 Comp. Knapp. 303. 

3 Neander Geschich. der Pflan. u Leit. d. Chr. Kirche, I. 213. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



241 



that a denial of the resurrection, including a rejection of the con- 
tinued, personal existence of the soul, will lead to nothing as a con- 
sequence but a frivolous mode of spending this present life, which 
he there describes, in order that, on the presupposition that they re- 
jected such a view of life as much as he did, they might thus be con- 
vinced of the pernicious nature of their unbelief, and might be restored 
to faith in the true doctrine. At any rate he must have been alto- 
gether ignorant of the existence of such an Epicurean sentiment, 
because, otherwise, he could not have applied\ this argument, which 
would have been wholly useless. 

Accordingly we understand at least so much as this. The 4 some' 1 
in Corinth were not the materialists who deny all personal existence 
of the soul beyond the grave ; but they were those who contended 
only against the form in which the hope of Christians educated in 
the bosom of Judaism had, necessarily from its origin, clothed itself, 
namely, a belief in the resurrection of the body after its dissolution by 
death. Hence certainly it follows that the persons to whom Paul 
refers did not belong to the Judaizing party, at least, that they were 
not Jewish Christians. A Jew, who believed in a future life, believed 
also, undoubtedly, — some few Hellenizing Jews perhaps excepted — 
just as our apostle did. Most probably he had his eye on some Gentile 
Christians. But what occasioned their doubts, whether the idea of 
the unfitness of earthly materials as a dwelling for the spirit in a 
higher stage of life, or the inconceivableness of the process by which 
a new body is erected from the wasted and scattered remnants of 
the old, or whether, like Neander, we feel compelled to assume that 
the persons in question were philosophical doubters, — to these ques- 
tions no satisfactory answer can be given. Supposing that Paul did 
not himself, of his own accord, start the inquiry, 6 how are the dead 
raised,' verse 35, and put it into the mouth of an opponent, viewing 
it as one of the difficulties which would be elsewhere raised against 
the doctrine, then we may admit it as a proof, that the inconceivable- 
ness of the event was one of the reasons at least, on account of 
which the doctrine of the resurrection was controverted at Corinth. 
But here also we have no certainty. 

We now proceed to examine and state the grounds on which Paul 
argues with those who denied his doctrine. As the meaning of the 



1 Tiveq h> Vfdv. 

31 



242 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



words is surprisingly clear in the whole subsequent discussion, it 
will be the main business of the interpreter to investigate the argu- 
ments which the writer adduces according to their logical value, and 
according to this alone. He must here, if anywhere, dismiss his 
peculiar philosophical and doctrinal views, and endeavor so closely 
to stand in the position of the historical Paul, that wherever possible 
he may see all the principles advanced by him with the same eyes 
with which he did ; and holding up before himself the one object of 
inquiry he may proceed with logical exactness, while on the same 
grounds also he seeks to refute the opinions which are opposite. 
The less this has been done heretofore, the more the peculiar doc- 
trinal view has everywhere exerted an influence on the interpretation 
of this chapter, the more fully shall I be justified, in my own hand- 
ling of the subject, in omitting to refer to my predecessors, with 
whom it is not my business to contend. My simple object is to show 
how Paul himself thought, and to exhibit the logical connection of 
his arguments. 1 

V. 13. Now if there be no resurrection of the dead, neither is 
Christ raised. 

Paul having already said that a belief in the resurrection of Christ 
and a denial of the resurrection of believers involved a contradiction, 
he proceeds to the proof. 2 i Now some among you think that there 
is no resurrection, but if there be no resurrection, then,' etc. The 
words ' is not,' 3 have the same propriety as in ch. 7: 9, 9: 2, 11: 6, 
when the non-existence of the resurrection is affirmed. The infer- 
ence follows, ' If there be no resurrection of the dead, then Christ is 
not raised.' In order to form a correct estimate of the reasoning 

1 The more— with regret 1 must add— will my Commentary displease the 
doctrinal exegetes. I see this beforehand, but I cannot change my course; 
1 cannot be faithless to my principles in order to win applause. I cannot 
allow that the two diverse persons— the interpreter and the doctrinal writer 
—can be merged into each other. No good ever did come from it. nor ever 
will. 

2 He might have used y'ao < for.' That he employs Si < now' shows, that 
he has not so much in mind the mog ?J Y qvolt 1 how do some say,' as the 
simple Xiyovoiv, ' they say,' 

3 ovx sartv. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



243 



we must bear in mind what is contained in the premises as Paul 
states them— not simply that 6 the spirits of the dead continue to 
live, while their bodies shall not be reanimated,' but ' if with the 
death of the body all life be absolutely annihilated.' 1 His argument 
may then assume this form. 2 ' What is universally impossible can- 
not occur in a particular, definite instance. If there be found no 
place for the return of the dead to life, then Christ is not restored to 
life, but is dead, as all others are.' This course of argument, 
obvious as it maybe, is attended with some difficulty. I do not here 
refer to the fact that Paul has identified the continued existence of 
the soul and the resurrection. So far as this is a difficulty, it lies in 
the fundamental conception of the subject, not in the reasoning. 
Neither do I allude to the fact, that there seems to be a difference 
between the calling to life of a corpse that had been dead but thirty 
six hours, and one that had been for a long time decayed. Paul 
does not here view the subject in the aspect of a purely natural 
possibility ; and even if he had done so, he could have replied, that 
with the Almighty, who ' calleth things which be not, as though they 
were,' 3 there is no difference between what is easy and what is 
difficult. But what I here intend is this— the conclusion that there is no 
resurrection of the dead if Christ be not risen, can hold only so far as 
Paul establishes a perfect coincidence between the nature of Christ 
and that of man. 4 So far as Christ is to be regarded as a being of 
a higher nature, so soon as he is considered the eternal Logos, the cre- 
ating power of God, the same rule or law for him and for created man 
cannot hold, and while he must have a continued existence, the ceasing 
to exist on the part of man is conceivable. We are thus compelled to 
say that Paul views Christ here only in his human nature, which cer- 
tainly is the same with the nature of all other men. He does not speak 
of a distinction between the nature of Christ and that of men, or at least 
it is nowhere definitely indicated. Thus it only remains, either that 
the apostle had unconsciously before his eyes the human nature of 
Christ, or else the argument does not prove what he intended. 

1 Comp. v. 19, 29—32. 

2 From Knapp 316, somewhat different from that followed by Heydenreich 
and Flatt. 

3 Rom. 4: 17. 

4 Believers are in this case to be regarded simply as men, since their 
union with Christ has altered nothing in their nature. 



244 



THE RESURRECTION QF THE DEAD. 



Allowing the validity of the reasoning, he might proceed at once to 
affirm, 4 but now is Christ risen, and therefore there will be a [gen- 
eral] resurrection.' He postpones this, however, to the twentieth 
verse, in order first to adduce certain consequences which would 
follow on the supposition that Christ was not raised. 1 

V. 14. If Christ be not raised, then is our preaching vain and your 
faith is also vain. 

First consequence. If Christ be not risen, then the preaching of 
the apostles and the faith of Christians are vain. To understand by 
' preaching' simply the declaration respecting the resurrection of 
Christ would give too narrow a sense. Paul expresses himself with- 
out limitation, and he must certainly be regarded as referring to the 
whole circle of his preaching. In a more special sense it related to 
Christ, the reconciler of man with God, the liberator from the guilt 
of sin, the author of the right to eternal life for those united to him, 
and the founder of the church of God, which embraces all nations 
without distinction. Paul avers that this preaching would be useless 
if Christ were not risen. In what manner it would be useless he 
explains in the seventeenth verse. If the work of redemption had 
not been accomplished, then the merits of Christ would have been 
of no service whatever, and the proclamation of his grace, failing in 
objective truth, would have been a declaration of falsehood. ' Faith' 
is also a general term, and to be taken in the wider sense, as the 
belief of Christians, a conviction in respect to the whole circle of 
evangelical truth and a reception of it in the inmost soul. If Christ 
were not risen, this faith would be vain, that is, it would rest on a 
false foundation, and therefore would be of no use to believers. In 
order to justify this inference, Paul must have considered that not 
only the death but the resurrection of Jesus was a condition of his 
qualifications as a Redeemer. This, indeed, cannot be deduced 
with entire certainty from any definite expressions, since Paul, who 
on no occasion conducts us through a philosophical theory of the 
terms of salvation, but everywhere announces what had actually oc- 
curred, had no occasion to express himself on the point in question. 
It may, however, be recognized as well from scattered hints, 2 as from 



1 See Note D, at the close of the Article. 



2 Rom. 4: 25. Phil. 3: 10. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 245 

the entire tenor of his doctrines. Thus his conclusion rests on just 
grounds, although it would exert its peculiar power as a proof only 
upon him who was fully convinced of the actual fact of the redemp- 
tion which had been accomplished. In the view of an opponent a 
consequence would not follow, except when it embraced something 
impossible, an absolute contradiction to that which was certainly true, 
or else something incontrovertibly proved. This is not here the 
case. Faith in the actual existence of the work of redemption is 
grounded on the fact of the death of Christ, and, according to Paul, 
of his resurrection. If the fact be not true, then assuredly the faith 
falls to the ground, because it ceases to have any truth. But it does 
not follow that the fact itself must be true. Paul, however, writes 
in the most lively consciousness of this salvation, and thus portrays 
it before his readers. So far he may employ the consequence as an 
argument. 



V. 15. Yea also we are found false witnesses before God, because 
we testify against God, that he raised Christ, whom he did not raise, 
if the dead are not raised. 

The second consequence. The apostles are deceivers and crimi- 
nals if Christ be not raised. They step forward as witnesses who 
have seen the risen Saviour, while yet he is not risen. They are 
thus false witnesses. They declare that God has raised up Christ, 
when he has not done it. Thus towards God they have become 
false witnesses. False testimony is the crime which is forbidden in 
the decalogue ; how much more if this testimony relate to what God 
has done ? The expressions are finely chosen so as to place the 
crime in as clear a light as possible. ' We are found false witness- 
es.' We are not only such, but we are discovered to be such; we 
stand in that position. ' False witnesses,' not deluded but deceivers 
—those who testify that they have seen what they have not seen 
4 False witnesses of God.' The genitive is used in order to point 
out him of whom they testified, namely, God, that he had done what 
he had not done. This testimony Paul terms ' against God.' 1 

1 The preposition jccai is employed with the design of aggravating the of- 
fence, for at presents it as testimony in opposition to God. This preposition 
indeed, with the Genitive, originally signifies merely '< of, " in respect to' 
any object, but its usage has been so modified that it indicates an unfriendly 



246 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



The last position, 4 Whom he did not raise, if so be the dead are 
not raised,' was not absolutely demanded inasmuch as it proceeds 
from the supposition in question, but viewed oratorically it is a veiy 
energetic repetition. • If so be,' ' indeed,' ' truly,' ' if it be actually 
true what they assert. 1 This consequence, powerfully as it must 
have stirred the feelings, when viewed as a challenge to their faith 
in the honesty of the apostles, and deserving of high praise coming 
upon them as an oratorical stroke, would yet appear forced when 
considered as an argument addressed to an opponent. That may 
certainly follow which Paul here announces, if Christ be not risen. 
But little as a man would regard the apostle as capable of a 
deceit, so little still could he see an absolute impossibility in the 
case ; and, as before remarked, it is only where this is involved, that 
a consequence becomes a valid argument in the view of an op- 
ponent. 

V. 16 — 18. For if the dead be not raised, neither is Christ raised ; 
and if Christ be not raised, your faith is vain, ye are yet in your 
sins ; then also those who sleep in Christ have perished. 

This may seem, so far as the thoughts in verses 13, 14 are reiter- 
ated, a mere repetition ; but I think it is more. Did Paul wish to 
deduce the series of consequences which would flow from the 
position that the dead are not raised, in order to produce the desired 
effect on the feelings, then the members of this series must follow 
each other in a rapid manner, and he could not delay on any one of 
them, as indeed he has not done. The reflection, 1 your faith is 
vain,' would bring upon the true Christian a burden so heavy that 
rather than bear it he would submit to anything, and this reflection 
Paul could not suffer to remain unemployed, so that by means of it 
he might bring back his readers from the thought 6 that the dead are 
not raised.' Accordingly he reverts to it once more, in its external 
form connecting it as a proof or illustration to verse 15, 4 we are 
false witnesses,' etc., but in fact intending a still further reference to 
verse 14, ' your faith is vain,' etc. 4 Thus,' he exclaims, 4 if the 
dead be not risen, then also Christ is not risen, but if Christ be not 
risen, your faith is vain.' 4 Faith' must be taken in the same sense 
altogether as where used above, else the apostle could not be under- 
or hostile relation. Knapp justly shows this, p. 319, in opposition to Eras- 
mus, Beza and others. 



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247 



stood in the other parts of the comparison. ' Is useless.' 1 This I 
do not consider as entirely equivalent to ' is vain' 2 in verse 14. The 
former seems to point merely to the groundlessness of the faith, from 
which follows its worthless character, its want of value ; while the 
latter strongly affirms, ' your faith will not save you to which the 
following thought is annexed as a comment ; ' ye shall die in your 
sins,' 3 means ' ye shall die without having been delivered from your 
sins,' so here ; to be yet in your sins,' must signify, that ' ye are not 
freed from your sins.' The design of the death of Christ was to 
rescue mankind from their sins, and to present them faultless before 
God. For this end believers confide in Jesus, through whom their 
sins are taken away, and they attain a state of justification. If they 
do not arrive at this state, then their faith is fruitless, they have ac- 
complished nothing by it. As we have before remarked, Paul pre- 
sents the resurrection as a condition of the actual achievement of 
salvation ; thus if the resurrection does not follow, then faith in Jesus 
would bring no fruit But this to him who had received the faith in 
the sincerity of his soul was the hardest thing which could befal him ; 
it was to lose his life and his labors ; and what could be more cruel 
than this r 

In verse 18, Paul deduces another consequence, which was em- 
braced indeed in the foregoing, but is here more fully brought out, 
in order to make a still deeper impression on the feelings. 4 Then 
those who sleep in Christ have perished.' He refers to^those who 
had died in communion with Christ, or as believers on him, the Chris- 
tians who were already dead. We are not here to think of the mar- 
tyrs. Destruction, 4 it is well known, is the lot of sinners, when sal- 
vation is impossible. But if Christ has effected no deliverance, then 
perdition will be the common doom of all without distinction, the 
living and the dead. In respect to the living, however, there is' one 
advantage. Though he have hitherto mistaken the way, he may 
yet by some other path reach the goal ;— but all the dead— they are 
given over a prey to perdition without redemption. Paul, skilfully 
making use of a prevalent mortality at Corinth, which might have here 
and there snatched from them [the Corinthian believersf a loved one, 
thus leads them to reflect, that if they denied the resurrection, they 
would pass sentence of eternal destruction on their own beloved dead, 

1 uuraiu iorlr. 2 ,, £V ,< iariVm 

3 John 8: 2U «4»W«fc. 



248 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



which certainly they would not wish to do. This argument is also 
orator ically good, and appropriate, but would be deficient as a con- 
vincing logical proof in the same manner as the preceding inference. 

V. 19. If in this life we have hope in Christ only we are of all 
men the most miserable. 

We have in this verse, undoubtedly, another inference. We may 
inquire, however, whether it is deduced directly from the position, 
* if the dead are not raised,' or indirectly through another position, 
namely, 4 then is not Christ raised.' We think, however, that the 
latter is firmly established in the fourth and subsequent verses in or- 
der to serve as an immoveable basis for the contradiction of the first 
position, and that all the preceding inferences may be deduced from 
the single [supposed] fact, ' Christ is not raised.' On this alone we 
think that the last series of thoughts rests, and as there is not a syl- 
lable to indicate that there is another basis assumed, we feel very 
much inclined to refer this [the inference in the nineteenth verse] 
also to the same foundation. Thus it maybe argued from verse 28, 
that the idea always floating before the mind of the apostle must 
have been, ' if Christ be not raised,' not ' if the dead be not raised.' 
Besides, there appears to be a resemblance between verse 18 and 
verse 19. What in the first is asserted of the dead, is in the last 
indeed averred of the living, and of all the living without distinction, 
yet the language refers us to the end of life, as is implied by the use 
of the Perfect tense. That which is in the first instance declared of 
some persons, in the last appears to be applied to all. Finally, the 
position of the adverb ' only' 1 is such that, although on the supposi- 
tion of a harsh inversion it might certainly be connected with the 
phrase ' in this life,' 2 as it appears to have been viewed by all the 
commentators, Morus excepted, and although the phrase, 4 only in 
Christ', 3 would be a far better construction, it yet appears much the 
most simple to connect 6 only' with ' Christ.' 4 These various cir- 
cumstances have led me to deduce this verse as a consequence from 
the second position, namely, 4 that Christ is not raised.' To hope in 
one, is to put confidence in him. 5 The time referred to in the verse 
must be that period when we shall attain the reward of our faith, at 

i uurov. 2 h rtj tpi} Tavri}. 3 iv uuvco tcq XqiOtco. 

4 uorov with iv Xqiotv. ' ' 5 Comp. Eph. 1: 12. 2 K. 18: 5. Judith 9: 7. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



249 



the end of this life. But fiovov connected with iv Xgiavw suggests 
the thought of the exclusion of all other grounds of trust. Accord- 
ingly we have the idea, 4 If through the course of this life we repose 
our entire reliance in Christ alone, abjuring all other grounds of con- 
fidence and sources of happiness, and yet Christ be not raised, but be 
still dead, our faith a dream, our sins not taken away, and Christ 
able to accomplish nothing which he promised — then we of all men are 
the most wretched.' This thought, concentrating into one great impres- 
sion the terrible consequences of everything which had been previously 
declared, is fitted, in a very peculiar manner, to be the key -stone of 
the entire refutation. The phrase, ' we are of all men the most mi- 
serable,' may be explained in one of two ways. First, the miserable 
man is he who has no hope. Far more wretched, however, is the 
one who had a hope, who directed to it the whole force of his mind, 
regarding it as infallible, offering up everything else to it, when at 
the termination of his course, he finds himself deluded, and is com- 
pelled to know that he has sacrificed everything to a shadow, an 
empty dream ; in short, that all his longing and struggling, his has- 
tening and running, his hopes and pains have come to nought. Or 
we may suppose, secondly, that the apostle has entirely descended 
to the common modes of estimating happiness among men; he 
regrets that he had devoted his life to goodness, that for her sake he 
had treated the pleasures of life with contempt, when after all, he 
has no reward, no enjoyment for his sacrifices. Such an exposition 
would not be impossible. Paul always knew very well how to address 
his readers in the quarter where they were the most susceptible, and in 
verse 29 seq., we have in fact something of the sort. In this pas- 
sage, however, he certainly considers the subject from a more ele- 
vated point of view. I cannot consequently adopt the latter interpre- 
tation, but must adhere to the first named. 

V. 20. But now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the 
first fruits of them who slept. 

Having completed the delineation of the unutterable wretchedness 
embodied in the single thought, ' the dead are not raised,' connecting 
it with the inference that then Christ could not have risen, the apos- 
tle takes away, as with one stroke, this entire misery, by the trium- 
phant reflection, ' now is Christ risen.' The great results he then 
32 



250 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



describes successively from verse 21 to verse 28. From verse 29 
two arguments follow in order to overthrow the opposite opinion. 
This whole subsequent section has been frequently viewed as a di- 
gression or an episode. But this opinion is certainly incorrect. It 
is the principal division, and the only one of a positive character in 
the whole of the first part of the discussion. It cannot be consider- 
ed as an episode. Much more natural is the supposition, that the 
arguments did not occur to Paul till he came to verse 20 ; they then 
appeared to be sufficiently important to be appended to the conclu- 
sion. In accordance with his manner, he announces the fact which 
will take away the opposite consequences before mentioned, which 
would flow from the position, [that the dead are not raised.] This is 
fitly introduced by the particles ' but now.' 1 The result, properly 
speaking, he rather intimates, than expresses in so many words, ' thus 
all this misery is taken away ; rather is our resurrection now made 
certain to us.' ' Christ is raised,' he exclaims, ' and become the first 
fruits 2 of them who slept.' The meaning of this clause might refer 
to those who first died, but the whole connection of the passage, and 
particularly verse 23, ' each in his own order,' etc., show clearly 
that Christ is intended as the one who first rose, the first fruits of 
them who slept, the first one who was brought to life from the realm of 
death. First fruits, however, are followed by a harvest. Therefore the 
consequent resurrection of all connected with Christ is involved, 
that is of all believers. The full sense of the passage is accord- 
ingly this, ' Christ is risen, not in order to remain the only one so 
risen, but that he might be the first among his associates, the precur- 
sor of all the others, the primary member in a long series of his 
friends who have fallen asleep.' The same idea could have been 
expressed thus, 4 that he might be the first fruits of them who slept,' 
or '• thus he became the first fruits,' 3 etc. How far Christ is the first 
fruits, and how his resurrection follows from that of believers, the 

1 vvvl §L 2 1 First fruits,' see Rom. 8: 23. 11: 16. 

3 Sts to alvai aizaqfr) tojv xsyoifi., or y,al ovTCog anaqyfi eyiv&ro row xsx. 
This appears to be what Billroth means, when he remarks that the words 
1 became the first fruits.' etc. are not merely to be considered as in apposi- 
tion, but as a predicate of the entire preceding proposition. Grammatically, 
indeed, they are only in apposition, but such a construction in Greek fre- 
quently expresses a complete idea of what is contained in the main propo- 
sition. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



251 



apostle fully explains in the following section. We are now to listen 
to him, and to exhibit, in as perspicuous a manner as possible, the 
true sense and bearing of his arguments, entirely abstaining from 
that exposition which is properly of a dogmatical character. 

V. 21, 22. For since by man was death, so by man was the resur- 
rection of the dead ; for as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall 
all be made alive. 

That Paul here designs an illustration is evident from the particle 
1 for.' The principal proposition, 4 Christ is now raised,' cannot be 
referred to. It is manifestly that which is in apposition, namely, 
4 that he might become the first fruits of them who slept.' But the 
subject is illustrated by means of a parallel, which the aposlle draws 
in the same manner as in Rom. 5: 12 seq., between Adam the au- 
thor of sin and death, and Christ the destroyer of sin and the restorer 
to life. Both Adam and Christ he places here, as well as there, at 
the head of two series or races, the representatives, as it were, and 
the leaders. The second, Christ, abolishes what the first introduces, 
restoring back to man what the first Adam took from him. 4 By 
man was death.' This is more fully expressed and illustrated, Rom. 
5: 12. ' By one man sin came into the world, and death by sin. 5 
The death is here to be understood simply, or at least principally, 
in a physical sense. 1 In the subsequent member of the sentence the 
conjunction xou 2 has obviously the meaning 4 also,' or ' even so.' 
The 4 man' is Christ, who in order to preserve the parallel must 
here be necessarily designated as a man. 4 Resurrection of the 
dead,' is not in itself altogether the right expression to indicate the 
antithesis. It would be either 4 life,' or 4 a return to life,' if we re- 
gard death as the loss of life. While Paul, as already remarked, 
recognises a return to a life which was lost, only through the me- 
dium of the resurrection, consequently both ideas with him are per- 
fectly equivalent, so that the deficiency in the antithesis, on this 
ground, disappears. The relation between the former and the latter 
members of the sentence is pointed out by inside), 4 since indeed,' 
4 because now,' a particle, both of time and of causality, in which 

1 See Note £, at the close of this Article. 

2 Kai Bl a.v&Qo'mov avdataavs vexgcov, 



252 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



the meaning seems to lie, that as it had been man who had destroyed 
life, so also it must he man who should restore it. This is illustrated 
in the following verse — (not in the light of a demonstrative proof 
which could not here be given), by the introduction of some new 
marks or indications. The first is, the similar position of the two per- 
sons Adam and Christ, as the heads of their respective races, and the 
consequences in relation to the authors, expressed by the particles 
4 as,' and ' so.' 1 The second mark is in the preposition 4 in. 1 ' In 
Adam,? says he, 4 all die.' This can mean nothing else, than that 
this happens by virtue of the connection in which they, the all, stand 
to him ; inasmuch as they are of his race ; thus what necessarily 
befals him must likewise befal them, namely, mortality. Thus it 
remains undetermined, whether Paul has considered this relationship 
as a merely physical one, that of descent, or a moral one, as men 
are all sinners like Adam, or both in connection. 4 Even so now,' 
he proceeds, ' in Christ all shall be made alive. 1 Here the use of 
the Future tense, which exhibits the consequences as yet to be ex- 
pected, shows that the apostle contemplates a restoration to life, 
(which is also indicated by the connection) which is not a species of 
moral restoration, but of a physical. In order, however, that the 
similarity, pointed out by the particles, may find a place, the clause, 
4 in Christ,' 2 will not simply signify 4 through Christ, 1 that it is he 
who awakens all, but, that by virtue of the connection in which they 
stand to Christ, so far as they are spiritual, (and no other relation 
with Christ can be thought of), they belong to his race or generation, 
they must, with him, also live as he himself does ; they must return 
to life in the same way that he did. Thus as Paul finds the ground of 
all the happiness which comes to man, only in communion with Christ, 
so he places the hope of a future life in Christ alone, and thereby, 
what he here asserts is in full agreement with Rom. 8: 10 seq. 
But what follows from it ? That the resurrection, which he expects, 
can refer only to those who stand in such union with him as that is 
upon which he enlarges in verse 35 seq., where he speaks of the 
mode of the resurrection ; it can relate only to those. Thereby he 
has settled, as it seems to me, the controversy, not yet decided, re- 
specting the extent of the meaning of 4 all, 1 nuvTeg, in this passage. 
Those who are not united to Christ can expect no resurrection. Paul 

1 L'jonsQ and oCt-ojq, 2 iv rw Xqigtoj, 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



253 



does not mention such in his Epistles. 1 They belong only to the 
first series, only to the race of Adam ; as such they are obnoxious 
to death ; as sinners they go to destruction. An existence after this 
life he may have assigned to them, also a kind of resurrection per- 
haps, in reference to the judgment, which he calls the resurrection 
in Acts 24: 15, where nothing depends on an accurate definition ; 
not using the term there in the special and higher sense in which he 
has employed it in his Epistles. Here the ' all' are certainly be- 
lievers only. 

V. 23. But each in his own order ; Christ, the first fruits, then 
those who are Christ's at his coming. 

The order of the resurrection. The dead shall be raised, each in 
his own order. The word ray^a, ordo, order, is not properly ab- 
stract, but it signifies that which is ordered, arrayed. They are the 
ranks, divisions, cohorts in a warlike host. Still, elsewhere, the 
meanings of the words -tot/fia and icc^ig seem to flow into each other. 2 
The order itself is simple. Christ, the first fruits, that is, first fruits 
of all ; then those who are Christ's, who belong to him, Gal. 5: 24. 
Their return to life follows his coming ; that is, at the time when he 
shall come in his glory to raise the dead and judge the world. 3 

V. 24. Then the end, when he delivers up the kingdom to God, 
even the Father, when he shall put down all authority and power and 
might. 

What strictly belongs to the discussion is ended, for there is noth- 
ing more said of the resurrection. But the spirit of the apostle hav- 
ing once mounted up to that time when the resurrection has passed, 
or is about to take place, and the great spectacle has presented itself to 
his vision, then he feels constrained to finish the picture fully to that 
point, where all thought ceases, where all our imaginations fade 

1 See Note F, at the close of this Article. 

2 Comp. Clem. Roman. Ep. Corinth. 1: 37, cxaoTog ?][imv iv tw Iduy ray- 
fian td InLTaoGofJAva litixhhtj also 41 ., sxaorog r/fxojv iv toj iS. rdyfi. svya- 
QiGteiroj deo), 1 Let each one of us in his own rank perform the required du- 
ties,' and < let each one of us in his own order give thanks to God.' 

3 1 Thess. 2: 19. 4: 15. 2 Thess. 2: 8. 



254 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



away ia the shoreless sea of eternity. ' Then the end,' he exclaims. 
The adverb appears to show that the ' end' follows the resurrection 
immediately, and as there is no other passage in his epistles at vari- 
ance with it, we must regard this as his meaning. 1 But what is this 
4 end ?' Not the end of all existence, for such Paul did not expect, 
but the end of this world as at present organized, the moment of the 
completion of all those things which belong to the Divine plan of 
redemption, the end of time and the beginning of eternity, of which 
the apostle, 1 Thess. 4: 17, can say nothing further, than, ' thus we 
shall be ever with the Lord.' If we are satisfied that he can mean 
this only, that he has not given a more definite idea, and that, per- 
haps he had nothing further to communicate, why then, without the 
least security, [of being right,] should we seek to supply the defi- 
ciency [as we may consider it] elsewhere, or from our own conjec- 
tures ? Still something coetaneous with the ' end' he allows us to 
perceive in the words, ' when he shall deliver up the kingdom,' 
etc. The Present, ' when he delivers up,' 2 resting on good authority, 
places the ' giving up' in the same time with the ' end,' jeXog, as it 
harmonizes best with the whole passage, and particularly with verse 
28. The word oiuv is a relative particle of time, in Latin, finis, 
quum tradit ; as we should say, ' when he shall deliver over.' Hence 
from these words nothing at all can be derived in the shape of a 
proof of an intermediate period between the ' resurrection' and the 
' end.' Paul thus teaches, that Christ, on his return, when the resur- 
rection of believers is accomplished, having been Lord of all with 
the design of completing the great plan of redemption, 3 will deliver 
up the government to God. He terms him ' God and Father,' that 

1 1 know, indeed, that others, for example Bertholdt in his Christology, 
p. 179, and Billroth, judge differently, and, fortified by passages from Rab- 
binical and apocalyptical writers, insert a long period, the reign of a thou- 
sand years, between the 1 resurrection' and the ' end;' and I am aware also 
that Paul shared with his countrymen substantially in his ideas on such sub- 
jects, and hence he may be often illustrated from their writings. But I do 
not believe that he was compelled to say on all points just what they said, 
while in his own free and active mind, many things would be variously 
modified, and hence if his words contain nothing of consequence which one 
finds in those writers, but, on the contrary, exhibit in their simple, literal 
sense, different things, then I should fear lest I might obtrude foreign no- 
tions upon him, when I ventured to interpret him throughout by them. 

s nagaSJco. 3 Eph. 1; 20—22. Phil. 2: 9-11. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



255 



is, him who unites in himself both predicates, ' God' and ' Father.' 
It is here used in relation to Christ in the same manner as is com- 
monly done in the formula, 4 the God and Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ.' 1 But this surrender will take place after he has put down 
all powers, dominions and principalities. The subjugation must 
precede the surrender, for this is the object which Christ is to attain 
by his government of the world. The ' powers' mast be the ' ene- 
mies' spoken of in verse 25 seq. Earthly princes and potentates 
cannot be meant, neither does the idea of 4 demons' exhaust the full 
sense of the words, for in verses 25, 26, death is included in the hos- 
tile powers. Paul indeed personifies death by the manner in which 
he has spoken of it, but still, assuredly, he could not have regarded 
it as an actually existing person. We must accordingly interpret it 
of all those powers, which are opposed to the entrance of a perfect 
state — to what is now an ideal condition of things. 

V. 25, 26. For he must reign until he has put all enemies under 
his feet ; death, the last enemy, shall be destroyed. 

Here we have the explanation of what is contained in verse 24. 
The apostle has in view the surrender of the dominion — which in- 
volves the idea of the possession of it — and the destruction of every 
hostile power as matters well understood. It now seems to occur to 
him, that possibly they cannot be so perfectly known to the Corin- 
thians ; therefore he subjoins the following position, not as a new 
one, but merely as a carrying out of the preceding. The principal 
idea in the first proposition is contained in the 4 must,' the dsl, 4 he 
must reign,' that is, ' you must understand that there is a necessity 
in the Divine plan, in respect to the world, that Christ must reign 
thus long.' The necessity is not strictly the reigning, but the reign- 
ing up to a definite period. This period is thus indicated, 4 until he 
has put all enemies under his feet.' That Paul has in his mind, Ps. 
110: 1, 4 The Lord said unto my Lord,' etc., is allowed, but only so 
far as the idea has assumed the same form. Though many inter- 
preters, depending on this passage and on verse 27, assume God as 
the subject, yet I must think not correctly. In the first place, it is 
unnecessary. Had we the passage formally cited from the Psalm, 
then, possibly, we must admit the necessity. But we have merely 
1 Comp. Rom. 15: 5. Eph. 1: 3. 



256 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



the passage as employed in the expression of a similar thought, when 
there is no identity in respect to the subject in the two places. In 
verse 27, God, without being named, is indeed the subject ; but it 
does not follow that he must be here ; it is the less so, because the 
contents of the two verses, as will be shown, are different. In the 
second place, the supposition is not admissible. With a correct view 
of the object of our verse, as above expressed — (and when we con- 
sider its meaning in connection with verse 24, and it must be so con- 
sidered) — then here we cannot regard the words as referring to what 
God does, but only to what Christ has done, or is to do, during the 
period of his dominion. It is in accordance with the eternal counsel 
of God, which must be accomplished, that Christ should be clothed 
with universal power, in order that he might put all his enemies un- 
der his feet. This last phrase 1 is a figurative expression, meaning 
1 to conquer,' ' to tame,' differing from xaiaqyuv ' to subdue,' verse 
26, only in this, that the latter conveys the idea of complete annihila- 
tion, while the former, employed in relation to all enemies, cannot 
be so used. Of these enemies, we are to understand, as above inti- 
mated, everything which in the period before the final consum- 
mation, stands opposed to the introduction of the perfect kingdom of 
God, including the infernal powers, as well as sin and death. 

V. 27. For he hath subjected all things under his feet ; but when 
he saith, 1 he hath subjected all things,' it is manifest that he is ex- 
cepted, who subjected all things. 

This must serve, as the particle { for' shows, to confirm or illus- 
trate the last sentence, namely, why must Christ destroy all his ene- 
mies. The words, ' he hath subjected all things under his feet,' are 
borrowed from Ps. 8: 7, and thus God is to be understood in the 
otherwise very remarkable omission of the subject. The ' subjec- 
tion,' however, is essentially different from ' the placing under the 
feet,' in verse 25. It is nothing else than the act of the Divine will, 
by which the Son is clothed with the power and the right to rule over 
all, and to subdue all enemies, as Jesus says of himself, ' all power 
is given unto me in heaven and on earth,' 2 an act which must have 
occurred before this course of subjugating all things commenced, 

J &uvai vnd roi's rrodag. 2 Matt. 28: 18. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



257 



but, according to the passages quoted in the comment on verse 24, 1 
has actually taken place since the elevation of Christ ; it is, as it were, 
a temporary resignation of the government of the world to the exalt- 
ed Messiah, while ' the placing under his feet 1 is not fully accomplish- 
ed till Christ's second coming. Now, however, the apostle seems to 
be apprehensive, lest, to the proposition before laid down of the sub- 
jection of all things to Christ, should be annexed, by sophistical rea- 
soning, with which he had perhaps already met, a false interpreta- 
tion, as if in the existing period, God himself is reduced to nought, 
as if he had entirely divested himself of the government of the world, 
as if he was now at rest, or was himself placed under subjection to the 
Son, an idea which indeed the representation of the dominion of the 
Logos may produce, and has often produced ; the conception of God, 
through the greater prominence of the Logos, becoming estranged 
from the feelings, as darkened by Christ's nearer light. In order to 
prevent such an interpretation, Paul adds the following merely inci- 
dental remark, 4 When he says,' etc. Inasmuch as this last position 
is a quotation from the Scriptures, we must judge in relation to the 
subject as in 1 Cor. 6: 16. If this were not a citation, one might 
suppose that he had Christ's own words in his mind. The limitation 
which he makes, is indicated by him to be such an one as interprets 
itself. 

V. 28. Now when he shall subject all things to him, then also the 
Son himself shall be subject to him who subjected all things to him, 
that God may be all in all. 

In the words a-/Qi<; ov, verse 25, lies the intimation that, according 
to the expectation of Paul, the kingdom of Christ w 7 ould have a limit, 
that it would not be eternal. This is now expressed in a more defi- 
nite manner, as illustrating that intimation. All must now be in sub- 
jection to God, consequently even the Son himself. The Father 
committed to him the government for the purpose of restoring the 
world to its original condition, which had been interrupted by Satan, 
and so that to him as Lord every knee must bow ; his government, 
however, would continue only till the goal should be reached, till the 

1 Eph. 1: 20 — 22, " When he raised him from the dead, and set him at his 
own right hand." etc., and Phil. 2: 9, 11, " Wherefore God also hath highly 
exalted hirn," etc 

33 



258 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



restitution of all things. Then the Son will give back the dominion 
into the Father's hand, himself also being subject, and the original 
order of things will again commence. God is all 1 in all, or through 
all, that is, he is the only absolute sovereign of the whole world, the 
world in all its parts has become the kingdom of God alone. As 
this is the design of the sufferings and reign of Christ, which his de- 
livering up of the dominion would perfectly accomplish, so the last 
position is indicated by the particle /V«, ' in order that.' 

V. 29. Else what shall they do who are baptized for the dead ? 
If the dead be not raised, why are they baptized for them ? 

The handling of the question, whether the dead are raised or not, 
is now properly concluded. It seems, however, that two further ar- 
guments occurred to the apostle, which would clearly show the ab- 
surdity of denying the resurrection ; these he proceeds to append. 
It is remarkable only that he should have introduced the first of these 
arguments by the word gjrsi, ' since,' as if a proposition affirming the 
resurrection had immediately preceded, when still these arguments 
stand in no relation with the contents of the preceding verses. We 
must attribute this to the freedom of the epistolary style, and suppose 
that Paul, after finishing verse 28, perhaps rested a while from writ- 
ing, or was called away, while he had in his mind, but had not ex- 
pressed, the thought, ' the dead will be raised.' ' If it were not so,' 
he continues, ' what shall they do,' etc. ' On the words, ' baptized 
for the dead,' there have been so many interpretations from the ear- 
liest times, that Mosheim and others found it impossible to enume- 
rate them. Since Mosheim, the number has further increased. If 
any passage can show the pernicious influence of preconceived opin- 
ions on exegesis, it is the one now before us. The words are so 
clear that they contain no ambiguity whatever, and their literal sense 
accords so perfectly with the general train of thought, that nothing 
less objectionable could have been inserted. But this sense has not 
pleased the interpreters ; it has seemed to them that Paul could not 
have expressed it. Thus each of them must lay this poor text on 

1 The article creates no difficulty. In the well known idiom which Paul 
here employs, we have to nav and rd Tcd.vza sivai : not indeed so often as 
Tiav and ndvra, but still they are used. See some examples in Matth. Gr. 
Gramm. § 438. Kypke, Raphel. 



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259 



his Procrustean bed, and there mangle it, amid the lamentation of 
grammar and the common usage of language, until a sense was pro- 
cured, which the next succeeding interpreter, not recognizing it as 
his own work, would certainly reject, in order to begin again the 
same labor, to be attended with like results. We pass all this over ; 
the words give but one sense ; whatever else they have been made 
to signify, must be false. Why should we recal the memory of these 
false expositions ? The phrase means, ' they are baptized for, or 
in behalf of, the dead.' This suggests to us the idea, that there 
were those in Corinth, who, convinced of the necessity and salutary 
influence of baptism, and erroneously regarding it not as a symbol, 
but as purifying the heart, adopted the notion, that the living might 
stand as the representative of the dead, in order that the dead might 
share in the benefits of baptism, and so there was a representative- 
baptism. Now, were there no other life, were the dead not raised, 
which is the thought which lies in Paul's mind, then there would be 
no sense in a baptism like this ; as an unmeaning act it must appear 
ridiculous. These were Corinthians, not perhaps the identical per- 
sons, but still Corinthians, who observed this usage and denied the 
resurrection ; therefore, they would contradict themselves ; they 
must either retract their denial, or confess the folly of their prac- 
tice. Thus it is a very good argument ad liominem; no one 
would receive it as a conclusive refutation. Had we no other 
trace of the existence of such a custom in the primitive church, then 
we must consider this as a solitary fact, but yet one to be depended 
on, and the interpretation would remain the same. But we have 
traces which are certain, and such, at the same time, as show us how 
it was that the custom was early introduced, since the heretics, the 
Marcionites especially, had adopted it, at least in reference to cate- 
chumens who had died previously to baptism. 1 Hence the passage 
is so understood by some interpreters, Ambrose, Erasmus, Grotius, 
Augusti, Billroth, etc. But the observance must have been a super- 
stitious one 1 This was possible, for no one can suppose, that the 
early church was free from superstition. But Paul could not ap- 
prove it ? Do we know then that he did approve it ? In 1 Cor. 10: 
4 seq. he mentions the public speaking of women in the church with- 
out a word of disapprobation, and then in 14: 34, he utterly prohibits 

1 Compare Tertullian De Resurr. 48, Adv. Marc. V. 10, Epiph. Haer. 48, 
Chrysost. Horn. 40, in hoc loc. See Note G, at the end of this Commentary. 



260 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



such speaking. Just so it might have been, it is conceivable, in the 
end, in this case, though, to speak "honestly, I do not believe that he dis- 
approved it. An ideal Paul indeed, with the cultivation of the nine- 
teenth century, would have done so, on the ground that the usage was 
not only superstitious, but because it was pernicious, as it supposed a 
magical power in baptism without improvement of the heart. But 
would the actual and historical Paul do so ? He regards the passage 
through the Red Sea, 1 Cor. 10: 1, as a baptism ; thus he might attri- 
bute powers to baptism which no one of us should. Perhaps had the 
usage been introduced without his sanction, he might still tolerate it, 
on the ground that it was consolatory to those who were anxious re- 
specting the fate of their friends that had died without baptism. Still, 
be that as it may, the thing remains, and we, whose only object 
is historical truth, must receive it, although no explanation of it can 
be given.— The meaning of the words ' what shall they do,' 1 is this, 
' If your position is true, that is, if the dead do not rise, then these 
persons must cease to do what they now do.' We have the expres- 
sion ' the dead,' ol vsxgal, since particular individuals were meant, and 
the baptism for them was a well known occurrence. In the follow- 
ing clause, the words in the text copied by me, namely, ' for them,' 
instead of ' for the dead,' have been approved by many of my pre- 
decessors ; they give a stronger and hence a more emphatic sense. 
4 If the dead are by no means raised, that is, if there is no other life 
to be expected, why still are these [living persons] baptized for 
them ?' 

V. 30, 31. And why are we in danger every hour ? daily I die, 
I protest by our rejoicing, brethren, which I have in Christ Jesus, 
our Lord. 

Here we have a second argument. It has no connection with 
verse 29, except what exists in the kindred nature of the object. 
The exertions of the Corinthians in their baptism, for the benefit of 
others, were futile, if there were no resurrection ; so likewise would 
the labors and sacrifices of the apostle and his associates be folly, 
if there were no resurrection. What has here been said by many 
on the connection of this paragraph with the last, would not have 
been said, had it not served to fortify their interpretation, of verse 29. 



ti TtOtrjOOVQlV . 



THE -RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



261 



We need not, therefore, here consider or refute it. ' We, 1 yfitig, 
may refer to Paul in connection with others, or, it may more appro- 
priately refer to him alone, ml being connected with the pronoun, 
thus, ' I also f ' we are all foolish, you in that point, 1 in this.' 
That the phrases, ' to be in danger every hour,' and 'to die daily,' 
are expressed hyperbolically, hardly requires a remark. In the 
connection in which the last stands, it can indicate only a daily, that 
is, a constant impending of fatal dangers, and indeed of such dan- 
gers as were caused by his adversaries. We are not here to sup- 
pose sickness, as the Epistle furnishes no traces that he was subject 
to any corporeal disease. To what had been said, Paul subjoins an 
assurance, confirmed by an oath. Such a confirmation, however, 
does not compel us to understand what Paul had said in a literal 
sense, when it could not have occurred to him that the Corinthians 
would so understand it. On inferior authority, I have preferred the 
reading 'our,' to ' your.' 1 In justification of it, I remark, in the first 
place, that in reference to ypne and with their derivatives, the 
constant fluctuation of the MSS, arising from the Iotacism, 2 renders 
it impossible for any authority to be considered as adequate. The 
sense in such cases, is always to be carefully consulted. Thus it 
may happen, that the meaning which is best, and most in harmony 
with the context, will be found in the minority as it respects the 
MSS. Such a sense is not in truth exhibited by vfisTsgav, and 
this is our second argument. In that case the pronoun must be 
taken as the object, 3 which certainly is not impossible. 4 Still it 
would be a strange thought for Paul to swear by his glorying of 
them, (his glorying concerning them, not in them) ; and besides, he 
limits it by showing to whom it relates, namely, it was that which he 

1 ?lusTtgav rather than r^ibxtqa.v. 

2 See Note H, at the end of this Article. 

3 Per gloriam (mearn) de vobis. '• By my glorying in respect to you.' 

4 Coinp, Matth. Gr. Gramm. § 466. 2. To the examples there found, the 
following are subjoined, Plat. Apol. p. 20. E. tnl 8ia(3ol?j rfj e/ifj Xiyet. 
Thucyd. 1. 33, (popoj rw v/ustsqoj. lb. t?)v r^azegap intyd^Giv. VI. 85, inl 
tw r^tregoj £voT?}oavTsg rfiag momo*. ib. 69, rijg ifiijg dcafiotfg. Msch. 
Prom. 388, frf ydq oe dyi-vo? o^fidg tig I'y&qav (idly. Still there is no in- 
stance in Matthiae, nor in the e 2 am pies which I have adduced, where the 
verbal root of the substantive y.avyr^ig appears to be construed with a pre- 
position. 



262 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



had in Christ. But this would justify the most solemn appeal which 
he could make — a protestation in form of an oath. We now read 
rjftsTSQav, ' our,' and we have the thought, ' in the trust which I place 
in Christ,' 1 that is, ' so true as I myself glory in Christ my Lord.' 
In such circumstances, where the authority is doubtful, and we are 
to choose between a very good and a very bad sense, I have sup- 
posed that to adhere to an established usage was rather the sign of 
the want of critical knowledge, than of the possession of it. 

V. 32. If, after the manner of man, I have fought with beasts 
at Ephesus, what profit was it to me ? If the dead do not rise, let 
us eat and drink, for to-morrow we shall die. 

This is not a new position. Having embraced his entire life in 
verses 30, 31, Paul now simply refers, as an additional circumstance, 
to the fate which had befallen him in Ephesus, where he now was. 
On ' the contending with the beasts,' 2 expositors have arranged them- 
selves into two great, and perhaps about equally divided parties, one 
interpreting the matter literally, the other figuratively. Of the later 
commentators, Flatt, Neander, 3 and Billroth, incline to the literal 
explanation. I have already given my reasons in the Introduction, 
p. 12, why I cannot accord with the literal interpretation. I here 
add the following considerations. First, the silence of Luke appears 
to me to be worthy of notice. His omissions are not to be denied, 
yet his narrative of Paul's residence in Ephesus is too ample to 
have allowed entire silence in respect to an event of this sort — an 
event which could not have been produced by a momentary outbreak 
of a wildly excited multitude, but must have resulted only from a 
judicial proceeding and a regularly pronounced sentence, even if, in 
a degree, of a tumultuary character, an event which consigned the 
beloved apostle to such imminent peril. He might have been 
thrown to the wild beasts in a storm of popular fury ; but to a con- 
test with wild beasts he could have been sentenced only by a Roman 
judge. Secondly, if we suppose that such an event did happen, and 
Paul had consented to fight, how could he have escaped ? Was he 
a man of uncommon physical strength ? or did he try his gladiato- 

1 Kai'X' s%eiv ev r. == tytiv -/.avyaadut h'v r., in whom, any one may glory, 
a sense well established in 1 Cor. 1: 31, and elsewhere. 

2 d'7]Qio[iaxetv. 3 See Neander, as above, p. 12. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



263 



rial art ? Or can we imagine a miracle, so that the wild beasts 
laid aside, in respect to him, their ferocity, and allowed him to es- 
cape unhurt ? Neither the one nor the other. He must have been 
destroyed. Thirdly, if the contest actually occurred, how could he, 
after it, have remained at Ephesus, and how could he have expressed 
himself in regard to his abode there as he has actually done, 1 Cor. 
16: 9? 1 In that case we must imagine, that the fortunate escape, 
and the wonderful deliverance, had so turned all hearts to him, that, 
though he had been sentenced to death, he was now unexpectedly 
able to remain without danger in a city which had just before been 
so hostile to him. But where is the right to suppose this ? In short, 
I do not see how we can extricate ourselves from the difficulties in 
which the literal interpretation will involve us, and hence I must 
still adhere to the figurative. Of those who decide for the latter, 
some refer the event to the insurrection of Demetrius ; others, as 
Bezaand Piscator, to the controversy which, according to Acts 19: 9, 
the apostle had with the unbelieving Jews. I think that nothing 
very definite can be affirmed respecting it, only that the insurrection 
of Demetrius cannot be referred to, because, as it appears, to me, 
Paul did not come into personal danger in that excitement. Besides, 
if he wrote the epistle subsequently, he could not possibly have dis- 
closed his intention of remaining there till Pentecost, because Luke, 
in Acts 20: 1, informs us that he very soon after left Ephesus, 
which altogether accords with his usual proceeding in such cases. 
To the words, ' after the manner of man,' 2 as many meanings have 
been assigned as there are interpreters. To enumerate them would 
be of little use, as the greater part are manifestly groundless. We 
therefore proceed to investigate the point itself. In the first place, 
it will make a great difference in the interpretation, according as we 
annex, or not, the thought, ' if still the dead are not raised.' On 
the supposition that it is not annexed, two interpretations are possi- 
ble. In the first place, we may consider the phrase, ' to fight after 
the manner of man,' etc. as an actual fact, and thus Paul would say : 
' What should I have gained, when I fought, or that I should have 
fought,' etc. In this case y.axa uv&q. can only mean, ' with man's 
ability,' ' according to what man is able to do.' That the words 

1 " For a great and effective door is opened to me, while there are many 
adversaries.'' 1 Cor. 1G: 9. 

2 %ard ctv&QOjTTOv. 



264 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



might mean this, I believe, though I cannot bring any proof passage. 
But in this sense, the whole question has no sort of relation to the 
design of the representation ; it must, therefore, be rejected. In the 
second place, we may suppose that Paul, in the first member of the 
sentence, is to be understood in a negative sense, intending, by 
means of the subsequent member, to destroy the force of the hut. 
av&g., 4 after the manner of man,' in the first member ; thus, 4 if I only 
y.ui. av&Q. had fought, what would have been my gain,' that is, ' if I 
had done this, I should have accomplished nothing;' whence it 
would follow, ' that I did not perform it simply xdct. av&g.'' Thus 
this expression would merely mean, ' after man's way,' ' in man's 
method,' 4 in accordance with a human mode of thinking.' If we 
do not, however, supply the following words, namely, ' without refe- 
rence or hope of a higher life and happiness,' then the connection 
is not preserved ; and if we should supply them, no sort of argu- 
ment would be made out. We therefore reject this method of solu- 
tion also, and assume, that the clause, 4 if the dead be not raised,' 
belongs to the proof of this point, so far as that it may be under- 
stood as supplied in the thought, though the words, as expressed, 
may be more properly attached to the following sentence. This 
mode of explanation may be considered as more correct, inasmuch 
as the whole process of reasoning rests on this hypothesis. Thus 
Paul asks, 4 if I, after the manner of man, had contended with wild 
beasts, and still the dead be not raised, what would it have profited 
me ?' that is, ' if it be true that the dead do not rise,' (in the sense 
of Paul, that there is no second life), ' what then would it have pro- 
fited me, if I should have fought ?' ' It would have been foolish. 
I should have lost my pains ; thus I might properly say, rather let us 
eat and drink,' etc. This explanation of the entire phrase enters 
well into the connection, because what he would show is, that all 
struggles and pains to reach a higher object, would then, in that case, 
be foolish. We suppose that the words xax. elv&g. will still have 
only the sense, 4 according to man's ability, with the exertion of his 
higher power ;' we have thus to append this idea. The last member 
of the sentence appears also in a more vigorous form, by connect- 
ing 4 if the dead be not raised,' with the first part : 4 what shall I ob- 
tain for all my sacrifices ? If the dead do not rise, then let us,' etc. 

The words, 4 Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die,' are 
copied exactly from the Septuagint version of Isa. 22: 13, and have 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



265 



the sense 1 let us enjoy a sensual life. Shortly it will all be over. 1 
They thus imply a demand to renounce all moral effort, to do no- 
thing but enjoy life, since death puts an end to every thing. That 
Paul does not thereby indicate the feelings of his readers, but simply 
wishes to call attention to the fact, that the denial of the resurrec- 
tion, (he regarding it as the condition of a future life), would neces- 
sarily lead to these frivolous and immoral sentiments, has been 
already suggested in the comment on verse 12. But if the last three 
verses, particularly the conclusion of verse 32, attaches to the apos- 
tle the idea of suggesting a mercenary pleasure, in its naked form, 
then it may be the duty of the interpreter to say a word to his read- 
ers on the point. That Paul has here assumed a character which is 
in no sense his own, that he is not speaking in his own person, is a 
supposition which is the less conceivable, because he had mentioned 
that his own labors would be entirely fruitless without a resurrection. 
It is unquestionable that his whole life would have appeared vain 
and aimless to him, unless there had been beyond the grave a higher 
life, as a fulfilment or completion of the present ; if a severe moral 
philosophy cannot allow this, then we must remember that Paul was 
not a philosopher, and, perhaps, had never in his life heard of the 
abstract worth of virtue. Yet he was too much of a practical man, 
while in the possession of a living hope that his course would not 
be fruitless, to ask himself, 4 wouldst thou do all this if there were 
no hereafter,' and thus had come to the conclusion that he would not, if 
there were none. In the second place, he here speaks oratorically, 
and with the intention of producing as deep an impression 
as possible on his readers, who stand on a lower ground ; he there- 
fore states the case in its extreme point, while all his epistles repre- 
sent him to us in a manner entirely different from that presented by 
the words in question. The epistles, without doubt, give us the only 
correct picture. Finally, the reward which he expected, and on ac- 
count of which he seems to have labored, was not that of pleasure ; 
it was the vision of Him whom he loved, of Christ his Lord, and the 
most intimate communion with him, who was here the soul of his 
life. Such was his desire ; though, in the present case, it assumed 
the form of laboring for a reward, yet it was entirely a spiritual re- 
ward. 

V. 33, 34. Be not deceived ; evil communications corrupt good 
34 



266 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



manners. Awake to righteousness and sin not ; for some have not 
the knowledge of God ; I speak this to your shame. 

Here we have the conclusion of the discussion, whether the dead 
are raised, together with a delineation of the moral corruption to 
which skepticism, on this subject, would lead, coupled with a solemn 
warning. In respect to the persons addressed, I have been led by 
Billroth's observations, to the following conclusions. In the first 
place, we do not know who, or how many, at Corinth, shared in 
doubts respecting the resurrection. Possibly Paul himself did not 
well know this. In the mean time he was safe in proceeding on the 
assumption that there were but few who absolutely denied it. These 
deniers are nowhere mentioned in this passage. Verse 36 may be 
directed against them. They are the xivkg, ' the certain,' in verses 
12, 34. Elsewhere, in these thirty-four verses, the Corinthians are 
always addressed. Among these were the tlvs$. The discussion is 
conducted before the whole, in order to confirm the believers, to re- 
store the wavering to confidence, to confute the opponents, and, if 
not to convert them, at least to render them harmless. To suppose 
that what is directed to several classes of persons, did not go before 
all the Corinthians, but only to distinct classes of them, as Billroth 
conjectures, is inadmissible, especially when Paul does not indicate 
by a single word, that he makes any such distinctions. He certainly 
regards the deniers, the Tivwg, as bad men, and hence he warns the 
Corinthians, ' Be not deceived,' ■ be careful not to fall into an error.' 1 
These words are veiy appropriately addressed to all, for the Ttvsg 
were in the midst of all, and, ' a little leaven leavens the whole lump.' 
He also points out the danger of their being corrupted by intercourse 
with the individuals referred to when he subjoins, ' evil intercourse 
corrupts good morals.' The interpreters have shown that these 
words are copied from the Thais of Menander. Paul writes xg^aia, 
as the MSS. and the Fathers also present it, not xgrja&. Perhaps he 
was not aware that he was citing a line of poetry, which might have 
come into common use as a proverb, or he designedly sought to con- 
ceal the poetical form. The words are appropriate, for he thus as- 
sumes that the Corinthians, as yet, possessed good morals, while he 
delineates the clanger of intercourse with the skeptics in question, 

2 Illavaod-at, is not in the middle voice, but in the passive, and hence 
it may be best translated thus. Cornp. 1 Cor. 6: 9. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



267 



they being bad men, and, indirectly, advises a separation from them. 
More severe, appear the words, iy.vrjipaTs dLxaicog, because they seem 
to indicate that the persons referred to were in a state of drunken- 
ness, or intoxication. Still, that a separate class of men were ad- 
dressed, will not follow, partly, on the ground that Paul had suffi- 
cient reason to be dissatisfied with the Corinthian church, and partly 
because the orators of antiquity did not employ such delicate terms 
in addressing their hearers, as we use from the pulpit. Whoever 
has read the orations of Demosthenes, will understand with what 
compliments he favored the Athenians. And still he attained his 
object. The word dtxw/ws, one may understand as he will. The 
only good sense is the following : ' that which is right,' ' fit, 1 ' com- 
plete ;' ' that which one ought to do.' 1 This, though it may be un- 
common, is notwithstanding to be received. Some understand 
afxaQTuvuv in the sense of ' err,' ' mistake.' But it is never used by 
Paul in this manner. He here might have called attention to the 
fact, that their skepticism was either itself a sin, or would lead to 
sin. The word ayvwala, means ' ignorance of any thing.' 2 Strictly 
speaking, Paul uses it thus : ' there are some among you who know 
not God.' Thus we may explain : ' those who know not what God 
can do, entirely distrust his Almighty Power.' The connection is 
better preserved, while the warning seems to be appropriate, if we 
translate thus : ' who do not understand,' or, ' who do not wish to 
understand or remember, that God is not mocked,' and, therefore, 
they are not afraid to provoke him by their immoral instruction. 3 

V. 35. But some one will say, How are the dead raised ? and with 
what body do they come forth ? 

Having now sufficiently considered the question respecting the 
fact of a resurrection, the apostle proceeds to the second inquiry re- 
specting the manner of it, and the condition of the bodies which shall 
be raised. The transition to this point, he effects by raising an ob- 
jection, ' but here some one may say,' 4 etc. We may conclude, 

1 Luther translates, 1 werdet doch einmal recht nuehtern.' 

2 Eurip. Med. 1173, Ehnsl. t-v/ucpoQag ayvvjaia. 

3 1 Cor, 10: 22. Comp. on ayvova, Eph. 4: 18. nqb% ivtq. vp. Hy<o, see 1 
Cor. 6: 5. 

4 *AkX iqel tis, Sed hie dicet aliquis. 



268 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



what is not in itself improbable, that the mode, the how, occasioned 
the principal difficulty to the speculating Corinthians ; that the in- 
conceivableness, the impossibility of the resuscitation of a dead and 
wasted corpse, was, perhaps, the great stone of stumbling. Two 
questions are suggested. In the first place, how are the dead raised, 
and secondly, with what bodies do they come forth from the tomb ? 
In the following verses, the apostle gives the answer. To hear this 
answer and nothing else, will be our business. For this once he 
has made the task very easy for us. The passage, so far as the 
meaning of the words is concerned, is one of the least difficult in his 
epistle. Of all the important doctrinal passages, it is the most readi- 
ly comprehended. 

V. 36 — 41. Thou fool ! That which thou so west is not quicken- 
ed, except it die ; and in respect to that which thou sowest — thou 
dost not sow the body which shall be, but a mere grain, possibly of 
wheat, or of some other grain ; but God giveth to it a body as it 
pleaseth him, and to each of the seeds its own body. All flesh is 
not the same flesh, but there is one kind of flesh of men ; and there 
is another flesh of beasts ; and another of birds ; and another of 
fishes. And there are bodies celestial, and bodies terrestrial ; but 
the splendor of the celestial is one, and the splendor of the terrestrial 
another. There is one splendor of the sun, and another splendor 
of the moon, and another splendor of the stars, for one star diftereth 
from another in splendor. 

The subject is illustrated by analogies. The address by the term, 
ScpQuv, ' unskilful,' ' foolish,' and the subsequent thou, av, express a 
certain disapprobation, in that an individual could entertain a doubt 
on a question whose solution had been already given in the analogies 
of nature. The first thought is this : The seed-corn which is depos- 
ited in the ground, can reach a nobler and higher life, only through 
death. The change which takes place in the corn in the earth, the 
dissolution, the decomposition, whereby it ceases to exist as a corn, 
is termed its death. In like manner Christ represents it, John 12: 
24. Application. Man can attain to a nobler life only through the 
separating process of death. Second thought. What is sown, and 
what rises, is not the same body. This leads to the application. 
The body which is raised is not the same with that which died and 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 269 

was buried, but it is a different body. In how far it is different,— 
whether it be formed from the germs or parts of the old body, or, 
as the plant which springs up, indeed, from the seed, but yet borrows 
its constituent parts from the surrounding earth, and is composed of 
entirely different elements,!— cannot be determined from the apos- 
tle's words. Third thought. God gives to each germ its own body, 
as it pleases him. The whole change leads back to the power and 
good pleasure of God, which should also cause man to feel that he 
ought not to rest in his own thoughts and speculations, while he is 
conscious that his destiny is in good hands. Fourth thought. When 
God is said to give to each seed its own body, it appears still to re- 
fer to this, that Paul expected a difference among those raised, be- 
cause he could not refer to the difference between the earthly bodies 
and those raised, unless he dropped the image altogether. It is pos- 
sible, notwithstanding, that while effecting a transition to a topic 
somewhat new, he would not be careful to preserve his allegory. In 
vs. 39—41, he seeks by an induction of particulars to lead the reader 
to the conclusion, that there being such a manifold variety of bodies 
it would truly be a mark of folly to imagine that there could be no 
other bodies for man but these existing, terrestrial ones. He first 
points to the great differences between the organic structures of this 
earth ; then to the varieties among the earthly and the heavenly bo- 
dies, for example, the visible luminaries, the sun, moon and stars, 
and finally, to the striking variety in the splendor of these luminaries! 

V. 42—45. So also shall be the resurrection of the dead ; it [the 
body] is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption ; it 'is sown 
in dishonor, it is raised in glory ; it is sown in weakness, it is raised 
in power. 

The application is shortly this : < Even so there is a great differ- 
ence between the bodies which are laid in the tomb, and those which 
shall rise from it.' This difference is illustrated in several distinct 
considerations, by a series of antitheses. The subject is indeed not 
formally announced, and this is very suitable, in respect to a topic 
like that of the body, a&/m, or rather of two different bodies, the one 
existing before, and the other after the resurrection. To the former 
are^ibutedjhree^ .pred^ ! c^ption, dishonor, weakness ; to 
1 To which 2 Cor. 5: 1 seq. seems to point. 



270 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



the latter, three, immortality, glory, power. These are indicated, 
respectively, by the opposite terms, natural body, and spiritual body. 
The natural body, as already pointed out, 1 Cor. 2: 14, is such as is 
appropriate to the ipvxv-, me animal soul, the life, anima, as it occurs 
in the three terms, 1 Thess. 5: 23. 1 The natural body is fitted to be 
an abode and an instrument for this animal life, being earthly and 
sensual like this life ; in its nature ougy.ixov ; in short it is what experi- 
ence shows it to be in daily experience, where the ipv%q is the predom- 
inant principle. Thus also, the spiritual body is such as is fitted to 
the nvkvfia, the higher, the spiritual nature of man, being such in its 
material and its form, as qualifies it to serve the spirit in its destined 
higher and nobler existence, which first begins in perfection when 
the spirit is released from the body of death, Rom. 7: 24, and at the 
same time from the yvxr h the animal life, which is probably regarded 
by the apostle as not destined to a continued existence. A clear de- 
scription of such a body, Paul was as little able to give, as we our- 
selves. He naturally contemplated it as made of finer and more 
delicate materials than this earthly body. Besides this mere, com- 
parative indication of resemblance, he has asserted nothing in respect 
to its nature, which was, indeed, impossible, and still remains so. 
Paul has nothing to do with all those speculations which have sub- 
sequently come in, and about which the greatest pains have been 
expended, in order to show, that they are authorized by his language. 
He contents himself with a single thing, which he makes it necessa- 
ry for man to believe, namely, that the new life is a purer, better 
life than this present one ; it is a life of the spirit. Hence that new 
organization which he gives us reason to hope for — (how far is 
known only to God) — an organization fitted to such a life, not to im- 
pede, but to aid its movements. We also stop on this point, with 
the apostle. He appears, however, to be solicitous, lest it should be 
further inquired, whence he knew anything of the spiritual body. 
In ortler to anticipate this inquiry, he announces the general propo- 
sition, 4 there is a natural body, and there is a spiritual body.' Hence 
the conclusion, ' now the first is undeniable ; so also must be the 
second. 1 As a ground of the proposition in question, there appears 

1 [1 Thess. 5: 23, to itvtvfxa xal y yjvyrj nal to ca>}ia, where Tzv&v[ia 3 the 
rational part is distinguished from yvxrfj the vital part, and both from to 
otofia, corresponding to Heb. n 1 , xbti , ntoa'. — Tr.J 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



271 



to lie a more general thought, namely, a necessary opposition or 
contrast, whereby the existence of the one is a condition of the exis- 
tence of the other. To the metaphysical proof, a biblical one is sub- 
joined, which rests on a very free use and carrying out of the thought 
in Gen. 2: 7, ' Adam was made a living soul.' 1 The apostle then 
annexes a commentary. The first man 2 here, as in verse 20, Adam, 
is presented as the head of a race, and in opposition to the last 
Adam. 3 He then explains the words, ' living soul,' etc., as a mere 
physical man, animated being. Following the principle of contrast 
expressed in verse 44, he connects, without any occasion from the 
passage in Genesis, the second member of the sentence, ' the last 
Adam a quickening spirit,'— so connected, indeed, that with the 
words, ' it is written,' must also be referred those words which are 
merely his own. That the last Adam can mean no other than 
Christ, is clear. He is named Adam, since that appellation, by com- 
mon usage, signifies the first man, and Christ is the first in his series, 
as Adam was in the earlier. Why w X axog, and not dsvfsQog, as in 
verse 47, is employed, we cannot certainly determine ; it is, possi- 
bly, with reference to the fact, that he had come into the world, iv 
xaigoUg ia/aToig. He is nvuvfia in contrast with yvxy. T venture not 
to determine whether the apostle would describe him here, in rela- 
tion to the whole of his existence, or whether he refers only to the 
period since the resurrection, where then the i/svsto slg nvsvfioc may 
point to this his first entrance on a spiritual life. 4 But an antithesis lies 
in the faonotoiv. The first Adam was made simply a living being ; 
he had a life, indeed, but it was merely a yv X i, communicated only 
from without. The last Adam, however, since he is a spirit, and 
the spirit especially giveth life, 2 Cor. 3: 6, has not only life, but he 
creates life. A definite object is not to be sought in faonoiovr, for 
the thought is altogether general. But it admits of a particular ap- 
plication, in that he, as the special source of life, is also the source 

3 toyarog dddfi. 

* The last is the more probable, since, if Paul had contemplated him as a 
< spirit,' during his abode on earth, he would not only have made him very 
unlike his redeemed brethren, but he would hardly have avoided the error of 
the Docetae, of which in his epistles there is not the most distant trace, as 
it was foreign to his entire intellectual nature. See Note I, at the end of 
this Article. 



272 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



of life for believers, and indeed, as the connection teaches, of a sim- 
ilar, spiritual life. That the proposition, in itself, contains no real 
proof, hardly needs a remark. 

V. 44—49. But not first that which was spiritual, but that which 
was natural, then that which was spiritual. The first man was of 
the earth, earthy ; the second man was the Lord, from heaven. 
As is the earthy, such also are they who are earthy, and as is the 
heavenly, such also are they who are heavenly. And as we have 
borne the image of the earthy, so also shall we bear the image of 
the heavenly. 

The question is brought nearer : 4 If now there is a spiritual life, 
and that so much higher and nobler than the present earthly one, 
why do not we, men, immediately enter upon that life ? Why do 
we first pass through this natural life, with all its troubles and sorrows, 
with the necessity, also, of entering upon that other life, by the bitter, 
separating process of death ?' This question Paul appears to have 
foreseen, and to have met by the following considerations— a proof 
how thoroughly he had considered his subject, and how fully he 
had weighed it, in all its aspects. He leads us to the point by an 
but. In this word we have an allusion to the thought, that, 
spiritual existence is, indeed, of a better and nobler nature. This, 
however, cannot be the first in order. I consider the proposition of 
the 46th verse as entirely general ; hence I do not take the words as 
epithets, in the sense of adjectives, but rather as substantives, 4 the 
spiritual,' ' the natural.' Paul now lays it down as a general law in 
the development of life, that the spiritual succeeds the natural; the 
former proceeds from the latter. It then follows that our life must 
observe that gradation, which he now, in verse 47, points out in the 
heads of the respective series, Adam and Christ. The first man is 
of the earth, as Gen. 2: 7 announces him to have been at his crea- 
tion ; and hence, being fashioned from the earth, he is earthy, 
xo'ixog, that is, he resembles the material from which he is formed, 
and is terrestrial, like that which he brings with him. The second 
man, Christ, is of heaven, i$ ovqccvov, for this is to be recognized as 
the only genuine text. He is descended from heaven, and hence, 
(what is here remarkably omitted, though presupposed in verse 48,) 
he is heavenly, inovqavioq, a heavenly man. And now as the head 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



273 



of the race is, so must be the race, which is descended from him ; 
thus he adds, in conclusion, though without the particle of compari- 
son, to, ' as is the earthy,' etc. Meaning : 4 The human race, springing 
from Adam, must be, in virtue of their descent, like their head ; as 
Adam was earthy, they must be the same ; they have only an 
earthy body, life, existence ; on the other hand, those connected 
with the heavenly man, must be like their head ; they must be hea- 
venly, as he is. We ought not, however, to understand what the 
apostle here says of the two races, as if he meant different series of 
individuals ; both may meet in the same person. As a son of Adam, 
every one is first earthy ; as connected with Christ, the believer will 
be subsequently heavenly. This is indicated in verse 49 : ' and as 
we have borne the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the image 
of the heavenly.' The subject here concerns believers only, not all 
men in general, for of them Paul here asserts nothing. He uses the 
Preterite, since he stood in spirit on a point of time, where what he 
describes comes to an end. In the concluding member, the authority 
is, indeed, most decidedly in favor of the subjunctive cpogsawfiev, re- 
ceived by Lachmann, but the sense and connection are altogether 
opposed to it. An exhortation we cannot here have. The course 
of thought begun, and hitherto carried on, in a calm and reflective 
manner, Paul would conclude in the same way. He cannot have so 
greatly erred, as here at once to break off, and pass over to an ad- 
monition. Either a mere oversight originated the w in the first MSS., 
and from these it passed into a great number of the authorities, or 
individuals misled, possibly, by verse 50, have not understood him. 
The Future only could have proceeded from Paul. He speaks of 
the confidence that believers, as they have been like the physical 
man, Adam, will, also, when they have become spiritually one with 
Christ, bear his image in their new, spiritual life. 

V. 50. But this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inhe- 
rit the kingdom of God, neither can corruption inherit incorruption. 

The hope expressed in the last verse, however, demands a limita- 
tion. There were, perhaps, those in Corinth, that thought it would 
be still better, if all could live till the advent of the Lord, and enter, 
as they were, into the kingdom of immortality. In consequence, 
Paul further instructs them, first, that a change was necessary, and 
35 



274 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



secondly, how this should relate to those who would be alive at the 
time of the Lord's coming. Both points are considered in what fol- 
lows. First, we have the explanation of the impossibility of enter- 
ing on the future life with these existing bodies. 4 Now this I say,' 
is an intimation, that the previous remark required a limitation : 
' We shall all bear the image of the heavenly Adam. But this I 
say,' etc., that is, ' I cannot still withhold from you the remark,' etc. 
The sense of the verse is simply, ' this mortal body cannot share in 
an everlasting, unchangeable life.' 1 He first calls it ' flesh and blood,' 
then corruption,' /; cp&oQcc, which is equivalent to to (p&agTov. He 
thus indicates the absurdity in which a contrary expectation would 
be involved. He now proceeds to the last topic. 

V. 51 — 53. Behold ! a mystery I show you ; we shall not all 
sleep, but we all shall be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of 
an eye, in the last trumpet, for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead 
shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed ; for this cor- 
ruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on im- 
mortality. 

Paul now discloses to those who should be alive at the coming of 
the Lord, the prospect of a change, which shall fit them, as well 
as the dead, to enter into the kingdom of God. He announces it as a 
mystery, in the same manner as he announced the future restoration of 
the Jews, to the Romans. 2 Consequently, it is in the highest degree 
probable, that he was informed of it by a special revelation. Per- 
haps an arbitrary, doctrinal caprice has been nowhere more allowed 
than in respect to the text of this clause : 4 We shall not all sleep, 
but we shall all be changed.' It is clear that Paul could have writ- 
ten nothing but what the received text presents, if not altogether ac- 
cording to the present arrangement of the words, still certainly in 
the sense implied in them, namely : ' we shall not all indeed die, but 
we shall all experience the change indispensable to our entrance into 
the everlasting kingdom of the Lord.' This meaning is made out in 
the fullest manner by verse 52 ; and it agrees most perfectly with 
1 Thess. 4: 17. But it had a consequence which does not agree 
with the prediction. Paul died, the other apostles died, all their con- 
temporaries died, and still Paul must have uttered the truth. That 



J Comp. 1 Cor. 7: 19. 



2 Rom. II: 25. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



275 



he gave himself up to an expectation, which the event contradicted, 
was a thought which the times would not bear. When it was pro- 
posed, (which was certainly very early done), to alter the text, 
merely to transpose a little word, a negative, and when all this was 
done, and Paul was made thereby to contradict himself, the words 
also disagreeing entirely with the context, — these were points which 
created no trouble for the interpreters of that day. Thus the change 
became universal. Still, those interpreters possessed the MSS., 
with the genuine reading ; but these remained unconsidered, and the 
wonder is that the true reading has still come down to us in some of 
them. Whether the negative retained its original place in the text, 
we indeed do not certainly know ; that it did, is indeed possible ; it 
might have been subjected to various changes, perhaps thrown out, 
and again inserted ; J but in the end, retaining its place improperly. 
Yet where it stands, it gives the correct sense. 2 The change, of 
which Paul furthermore speaks, refers not only to the living, whom 
he indicated in verse 52, but also to the dead, who would likewise 
have a new, spiritual body, instead of that which had decayed in the 
tomb. And thus navrsg, as repeated, may be taken in the most gen- 
eral sense, namely, of all those who entertain a hope of the resur- 
rection, that is, believers. The change, indeed, will occur in 6 a mo- 
ment,' ' in the twinkling of an eye,' with inconceivable rapidity. 
The word Sto^ov means indivisible, here an indivisible, minute point 
of time. For a particular reason, on account of which Paul men- 
tions the great rapidity with which the event would happen, we need 
not inquire ; the less so, as it was manifest, that this was a circum- 
stance embraced in the expectation of the Jews, and Paul here ob- 
viously entered somewhat more deeply into the subject than was 
absolutely demanded. Thus, likewise, he subjoins as a mere acces- 
sory circumstance, the words, 4 in the last trumpet,' and as a matter 
well known. He then, as it should seem, reflects, that possibly his 
readers would be less familiar with it, and accordingly he confirms it, 

Oil 

1 Cod. A. furnishes an instance with its text, ol itdvrsg fiev xotfi^- 
ftrjoofisd'a ov navrsg Ss dtXX. 

2 Thus we may say that the genuine Greek text is this, noifitjd-rjoofie&a 
jtavreg fisv ov. Plato's writings furnish a multitude of examples of a simi- 
lar construction. Thus Paul could have used the words jr. /a. ov xoifiif&y. 
in this sense : ' die we shall indeed not all, but,' etc. 



276 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



by adding, ' for it shall sound.' 1 The word, kxh% ' last,' as Billroth 
has correctly remarked, does not mean that there are to be several 
blasts of a trumpet on the final day, and that this was, in that sense, 
the last which should be blown, but simply that it would be the 
trumpet of the last day, after which no more would be heard. 
Then follows the resurrection and the transformation of the living, 
the certainty of which is again declared by the remark, that it was 
necessary that the corruptible should put on incorruption, and the 
mortal, immortality. 

V. 54 — 57. Now when this corruptible shall have put on incor- 
ruption, and this mortal, immortality, then shall come to pass the 
saying which is written : ' Death is swallowed up in victory ! 
Where, O death! is thy victory? Where, death! thy sting?' 
The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. But 
thanks be to God who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus 
Christ. 

The discussion is concluded. The apostle has arrived at the point, 
when his spirit, standing at the portals of eternity, can think of noth- 
ing more than that for it, finiteness and mortality have ceased. His 
own soul is now full of the elevation and glory of the object, and as 
a fine conclusion, there flows from his pen, a brief but striking tri- 
umphal song. He seems to delight in these songs at the close of 
his more important sections. 2 The final clause of verse 54, is a re- 
petition of verse 53, in another form, and as pathetic, fitted to affect 
the heart. In the conclusion of the verse, he adds, ' then shall come 
to pass the saying which is written,' or as one might say with truth, 
4 what is written,' 3 namely, ' death is swallowed up in victory.' This 
is a free translation of Isa. 25: 8, ' He shall swallow up death for- 
ever.' 4 Paul has changed the active voice of the verb in the original, 

1 A definite subject of the verb oaknioai, Winer, in Gram. p. 471, has not 
thought to be necessary in this passage, as Billroth seems to imagine, espe- 
cially because he does not cite the passage itself, but simply wishes to indi- 
cate, by the term which he has quoted, 6 oahzby%i)s, the origin of this im- 
personal mode of expression. 

2 Comp. Rom. 8: 11 seq. 11: 33 seq. 

3 A similar expression is found in Plato's Phaedon, p. 72, C. ray/ av to 
rod 3 ' Ava^ayoQOv ysyovbg ht], 6/iov irdvra yqt'^ara.. 

4 ft^?.? ^l^n • Sept. Karinuv o d~dparog ioyvoag. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 277 

into the passive, and he translates ' forever,' by 4 in victory,' 1 as the 
Seventy do in other passages. Still, verse 57, doubtless, shows that 
he viewed vkag as equivalent to vl m . The meaning is clearly, ' that 
death shall be utterly destroyed and annihilated.' The following 
words, 6 where, O death ! thy sting,' are from Hos. 13: 14. 2 The 
apostle subjoins a brief comment. ' The sting of death,' says he, 
' is sin.' I cannot agree, as Billroth does, with the explanation of 
Schottgen, who supposes, that the sting of death, alludes to the goad 
with which one drives his team, when he cultivates his field ; but, 
with others, I consider the sting as the instrument with which death,' 
here personified, destroys men. This is sin, for were there no sin' 
then, according to Paul, death would never have any power over 
mankind ; it would be harmless, as an insect without a sting. But 
if death was to have no more power, then must sin be abolished, and 
to that, the apostle particularly directs the attention of his readers, 
in his comment. Further, < the strength of sin,' that which gives it 
its power, ' is the law.' The meaning of this may be learned from 
Rom. 7: 5, 7 seq. But why are these words subjoined ? A logical 
necessity for them does not exist; but they are rather dictated by 
the personal feelings of the apostle. What difficulty the law had 
occasioned him during his life ! In the first place, in an inward 
sense, when he was in subjection to it; then, outwardly, when he 
met with opponents of his free salvation. Hence he cannot think of 
happiness, without an entire absence of the law, and thus he con- 
cludes, < if death shall be abolished, then sin must be destroyed ; and 
if sin is to be destroyed, then there can be no more law.' ' He 
teaches his readers to recognize, in the passage from Hosea, a pre- 
diction of a state of perfect sinlessness and freedom. He then con 
eludes with thanks to God, who giveth the victory through Christ 



V. 58. Wherefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast and immova- 
ble, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your 
labor is not m vain in the Lord. 



This verse contains a concluding exhortation, drawn from the cer- 
taintywhich was now secured in respect to the future life of the 
1 h2£2 \h by els vtxog. 

' hh *i ^ *W ^ like manner the Sept. nov f, 

OLntj gov , d-avaze ; nov to tcevzQov oov, a§y. 



278 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



Corinthian believers. They should be steadfast 1 and immovable in 
their convictions, or, more generally, in their belief in Christianity. 
They ought, also, to be perseveringly zealous in the work of the 
Lord, inasmuch as they knew that their labor would not be fruitless, 
as it would be, if there were no resurrection. ' In the Lord,' be- 
cause they were united with him, and were members of his body. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY.* 

BY J. P. LANGE. 

In the third Number of the Theological Studies and Criticisms, 
for the year 1835, Prof. J. Miiller has given a very instructive exam- 
ination of the essays and reviews of Weisse, Goschel and Fichte, 
which were called forth by Richter's treatise entitled, ' The Doctrine 
of the Last Things.' The criticisms which the respected author has 
occasionally suggested, in relation to the views of these excellent 
and estimable thinkers, are important. He has shown, for example, 
in opposition to Goschel, that the Hegelian philosophy, according to 
the earlier representations of its adherents, certainly occasions the 
denial of man's personal, continued existence after death. Contra- 
ry to the views of Weisse, he has proved that the Scriptures author- 
ize us to distinguish the doctrine of man's continued, personal exist- 
ence from the doctrine of future, everlasting happiness. Against 
Fichte he maintains, that the resurrection of the dead is not connec- 
ted with the close of life, but with the end of the world. Professor 
Miiller very readily admits, on the other hand, whatever there may 
be that is new or profound in the contributions, which these distin- 
guished authors have made to the completion of the christian escha- 
tology. 3 

1 See the word sSqoioij 1 Cor. 7: 37. 

2 See Note J, at the close of this Article, which the reader is requested to 
peruse before examining the remarks of Lange. 

3 See Note K, at the close of this Article. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



279 



The writer of these pages begs leave to add some remarks on a 
sentiment which Miiller has expressed in connection with the phrase, 
p. 778, ' resurrection of the flesh.' 1 Miiller advances the sentiment 
in the observations in which he approves of Fichte's notion of an or- 
ganic identity in man's corporeal nature. The idea is certainly a 
beautiful one, and viewed negatively is quite obvious. It may be thus 
indicated, ' The human body cannot be, in its essential features, that 
mass of matter which is in a constant process of flux and of self- 
renovation — which was originally foreign to it, was connected with it 
only in the way of assimilation, and which was forced to aid in its 
organization.' 

But what opinion must we form of this organic identity in its pos- 
itive aspect ? Besides the materials which compose the body, noth- 
ing will remain, except a mere law or power in the human spirit, by 
means of which it can acquire a definite corporeal organization, fit- 
ted to its nature, both in its internal operations and its outward 
sphere of action. At all events, nothing will remain but the figure* 
or ideal image of the body, which is contained in the spirit. Miiller, 
in the meanwhile, having adopted this opinion of Fichte, endeavors 
to point out its agreement with the Bible : " It is not the flesh," says 
the inspired word, " it is not the mass of earthy materials, but it is 
the body, it is the organic whole, of which the resurrection is predi- 
cated. The organism, or organic structure, viewed as the living 
form, which appropriates matter to itself, is the real body, which, 
when glorified, becomes the spiritual body. Paul denies all gross 
representations of the resurrection and of the human body, when he 
says, ' flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God.' " The 
author, after quoting another passage in proof of his position, re- 
marks : " It is, therefore, to be regarded as a very erroneous mode 
of expression, when we inculcate a definite resurrection of the flesh, 
instead of the resurrection of the body, as is done in the oldest rule 
of faith — the so-called Apostolic Symbol." 

In opposition to these views, we submit the following considera- 
tions. By the term, avaoracrig aaQxog, we are not, indeed, to under- 
stand the existing, earthy substance, the mass of matter belonging to 
the terrestrial man. We need not do this in order to retain, without 
variation, the phraseology in the Symbol above quoted. Although 
we should fully admit the notion of organic identity, we must still 
3 See Note L, at the close of this Article. 



280 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



receive, as a consequence, a resurrection of the flesh. The author 
in agreement with Fichte, regards the body as 4 the organism,' ' or- 
ganic structure,' or ' the form,' which brings under subjection, and 
appropriates to itself, the corporeal substance. But how can a phy- 
sical organization exist without the matter which it organizes ? Can 
the figure of a body amount to anything more than a phantom, like 
the notion of the Docetae, if destitute of the material, by which it 
was first built into a substantial structure ? So far, a resurrection 
of the body, without a resurrection of the flesh, is not conceivable. 
Could a bodily organism, or organic structure, be united, at some 
future time, to a purely spiritual, disembodied existence, there being 
no glorified body in order to give significance to it, as Miiller seems 
to imagine, then we should conclude decidedly, that a resurrection 
of the body would never once be named ; for a body without a sub- 
stance or a material, is a mere form. Now the material of the body 
is the flesh. 

If we adhere to the theory of an organic identity, we must of ne- 
cessity retain the material in which this organic identity can develop 
itself. The organic, vital power assumes a new material, so soon as 
it lays aside, in the course of nature, its old. Without this, the no- 
tion of a bodily organism or structure cannot be maintained. It is 
for this reason, that I have endeavored to gain a more exact view of 
the idea above indicated, namely, a law or vital energy in man's 
spirit, by means of which it acquires a corporeal structure fitted pre- 
cisely to its nature, either in its internal development, or its outward 
sphere of action. 

There may, however, be imagined more appropriately, a kind of 
organic identity, as an ideal form of the body, contained in the spirit, 
or as a tendency of the spirit towards the assumption of a body. 

This feature in the human constitution, has a more general ground 
in the fact, that we are inclined to clothe every spiritual object in a 
corporeal form. Light is the garment of the Deity ; the creation is 
his house ; his fullness dwells in Christ bodily. The Word became 
flesh. The angels are enveloped in winds and fiery flames. 1 No 
finite spirit, as such, can float into the infinite ; it must be found 

1 The interpreters have not rightly apprehended the passage, Ps. 104: 4, 
whether they give the explanation, 1 He maketh his angels like winds,' etc. 
or the reverse. [See, however, Prof. Stuart on Heb. 1: 7 ; also, the note 
of De Wette on Ps. 104: 4.— Tr.] 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



281 



somewhere and be formed somehow. In its inner life, in the central 
point of its union with God, it may be understood as having no rela- 
tion to space or time. With its personality, however, its finiteness 
or a circumscribed limit remains connected. The Pantheistic phi- 
losopher is ready enough to speak of the spirit, or of man's spirit, 
but reluctantly of spirits, and almost contemptuously of angels. A 
continued, endless duration of persons, or beings, destined to an 
eternal existence, wars against his system. We are to regard man, 
in relation to this subject, as one entire whole. His inward powers 
were called into existence at the same time with his external. The 
priority, indeed, belongs to his spiritual part so far as it has a nearer 
connection than his body, with the Divine Being. In the soul of 
man lies his personality. In his personality he is distinct from the 
Creator, he is a creature in the creation. As a spirit, man has the 
ability to assimilate to himself inferior elements, and to make them 
subserve his purposes. As a spiritual creature, he has a peculiar 
measure of powers and talents, mingled in a peculiar manner, and 
therein lies the principle or essential element of his formation. The 
figure, the form, or the appearance possessed by men, depends up- 
on, or has a connection with, the spiritual powers which belong to 
all in common. The particular combination of the faculties in each 
individual, imparts to him his appropriate individuality, even in its 
external manifestation. Thus the assumption of a corporeal form, 
on the part of man, has its ground in his spiritual nature. As a 
purely spiritual, incorporeal being, he proceeds from God, who made 
him in his own image. He has now the principle of his form or 
organization. He goes from God into the creation, which bestows 
upon him an organic covering from its finest and most delicate mate- 
rials. In his spirit, he has the scheme or ideal figure of his bodily 
structure. But in the creation, he has a close affinity with the earth, 
and accordingly assimilates to himself what he needs of earthy ma- 
terial, in order to effect his bodily organization. 

This organic law has its corresponding idea in the biblical com- 
parison of man, sleeping in the grave, to a seed-corn, which is to 
germinate at the resurrection. The entire, deceased man is the 
seed-corn, not what we term his remains, in and of themselves. 
These are rather the perishable, by which is enclosed the imperishable 
part of this seed-corn, the germ of a new life, of a new organiza- 
tion. The undecaying portion is the inner man, which is renewed 
36 



282 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



day by day, while the outward perishes or dies. This is the seed 
for the resurrection. 1 

If we adopt such an hypothesis, however, we may appear to ar- 
rive much too soon at the period of the resurrection of the dead. 
This might seem to follow immediately after death. But the appa- 
rent difficulty will vanish on a nearer consideration. 

The spirit assumes for itself a form as it is, from materials where 
it is. To the first of these positions we shall revert at the con- 
clusion of these remarks. We now proceed particularly to con- 
sider what is founded on the second position, namely, that the spirit 
takes its organization from materials existing where it has its resi- 
dence. This we shall do under the three heads of death, intermedi- 
ate condition after death, and resurrection of the body. 

We are to contemplate the death of man, separately from its 
moral relations, as a laying aside of the earthly, or as a departure 
from the earth, for both these are essentially the same. When, 
however, man leaves the earth, he does not leave the creation. 
When he puts off the terrestrial, he does not lay aside what he re- 
ceived from the creation. As the earth has in itself matter which 
is simply earthy, while this same matter is pervaded by something 
of a higher sort, which belongs to the entire creation, (thus the hea- 
vens are pervaded, for example, by light, electricity, the gases, in gen- 
eral by the ether, the mysterious ocean of all vital energies diffused 
through universal space), and as, finally, the Divine existence per- 
vades and fills the creation, so man, also, in accordance with the 
biblical representation of his entire nature, has the three simple char- 
acteristics—earthly — ethereal — godlike, or something from God, 
something from the general substance of the creation, and something 
from the earth. When he dies, he retains, not merely what he pos- 
sessed, as he came from God, a purely spiritual existence, but what 
he had from the creation, a soul-like, ethereal form or organization, 
and he leaves only that which he had from the earth, namely, the 
mortal, the perishable, because he now quits the earth. That by 
death man is divested of the earthy, of the corruptible, we need not 
stop to prove. It is enough merely to mention the passage quoted 
by Miiller. 2 That man at death leaves the earth, the Scriptures, 

1 See Note M. at the close of this Article. 

2 Td pQWfj,aza rfj xoi/ua, xal r, xoifa'a rocg Ppoj/iaoiv, 6 §e &ed$ xal ravrrjv 
xal tavxa xaTaQytfoet, 1 Cor. b*: 13. 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



283 



likewise, teach in the general declarations respecting the entrance of 
the departed into the realms of death, or, specially, of the admission 
of the righteous into Paradise, into heaven, into the eternal mansions, 
and of the going away of the wicked to hell. 1 

In the consideration of the intermediate state of man after death, 
we must further inquire, whether, subsequently to death, anything 
remains of a bodily nature, anything besides a purely spiritual exist- 
ence. The following point may be regarded as fixed. The Bible 
knows nothing of a boundless generalizing of man beyond the grave, 
in accordance with which the personal, continued existence of the 
spirit is made in its infinity, to have neither form nor place. It 
speaks of spirits in prison, of habitations in Sheol, of paradise, of 
many mansions in our Father's house, of the dwelling of Christ 
far above all principalities. There are bright realms, fixed, local 
habitations in man's spiritual world. We can form, indeed, of ne- 
cessity no other conception of the continued existence of the soul, 
than that it must be somewhere. When one seeks to elucidate the 
opposite notion, namely, the denial of the where, he comes instantly 
to the position, that a finite spirit vanishes and is lost in the infinite. 
This is the pantheistic immortality of Richter of Magdeburg, the 
death-prophet, who was animated with the thought of one day dying, 
not like man, but of dying utterly, and who announced to his con- 
temporaries, as if he had a new gospel, words, which Frederic the 
Great is said to have addressed to his wavering grenadiers, ' Ye 
hounds, ye wish then to live always.' 

If now, universally, the spirit of the departed stays in the crea- 
tion, then it will retain that which it had from the creation, which it 
appropriated out of the existing materials of the creation, in the 
way of a definite organization for its own spiritual powers. This 
organization is the soul, which serves as a kind of robe for the spi- 
rit. And when it obtains its particular dwelling-place, then it will 
assimilate, from the materials of this place, what will be fitted to 



1 Were one to admit what has been often conjectured, namely, that some 
departed souls, fast held by a chain of earthly sense, linger still, for a long- 
time, wear the earth— \n that case a possibility is admitted, that they might 
occasionally make their appearance in an imperfect, volatile form. The pos- 
sibility of the visible appearance of angels, rests also upon the principle of 
organization indicated above ; they come, however, from a superior, ethere- 
al world, investing themselves with robes which gleam like the lightning. 



284 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



itself, and thus it will assume an organization adapted to its sphere. 
How otherwise, could a moving, acting, forming spirit remain in its 
sphere, and live in its entire activities, with its associates, in the same 
sphere ? A perfect nakedness of the spirit, would amount to its being 
in an absolute solitude, or in a state of utter loneliness, which we 
cannot think of. Even a relative nakedness — the unclothing of 
souls from their spherical organization or covering — would unfit 
man for a particular sphere which might be named. We think of 
departed souls at death as still present, or near, but not visible 
to us. They are then unclothed and relatively naked, but not 
unclothed in the sense of being merely pure, spiritual existences ; 
they are not absolutely naked. They again make use of what may 
be termed a body, or a corporeal substance. Accordingly the spirits 
in Hades must take their organization from materials in Hades ; 
the spirits in heaven, from heavenly materials. The finer the mate- 
rial of their place of abode, the finer and the more delicate will be 
their garments ; but there nowhere exist perfectly immaterial 
places and forms. Without doubt, the lamentation of the rich man 
in hell, and in suffering, 4 1 am tormented in this flame,' has a spirit- 
ual meaning, but a figurative, spiritual sense can hardly exclude 
every thing of a bodily or corporeal form. When Jesus says 
to his disciples, S I will no more drink of the fruit of the vine, till the 
day when I drink it new with you in my Father's house,' there 
lies, in these words, together with all the fulness of a spiritual con- 
ception, something which is inconsistent with the absolute exclusion 
of what is material or corporeal in the future state. 

In respect to the passage, 2 Cor. 5: 4, 1 we would not be un- 
clothed but clothed upon,' etc., Professor Miiller assumes that Paul 
is here describing the intermediate state of the departed after death, 
as a mere naked, spiritual existence. In opposition to this idea, we 
submit the following remarks. In the first verse Paul says : ' we 
know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we 
have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in 
the heavens ;' and, ' in this we groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed 
upon with our house which is from heaven.' How near is placed 
the entrance upon our new habitation to the exit from our old ! and 
as the tent reminds us of the frail, earthly body, so must the eternal 
habitation remind us of the spiritual, heavenly body. Though this 
assumption of an organization which awaits the spirit, on its entrance 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



285 



into heaven, does not exclude a future corporeal resurrection, still 
the idea will forbid an absolute nakedness of the spirit. The apos- 
tle makes use of three terms, whose meaning may be illustrated gram- 
matically, and in their connection as follows: 1, ' To be clothed 
upon,' 1 when the perishable is laid aside in the process of the 
change — the swallowing up of mortality in life ; 2, ' To be uncloth- 
ed,' 2 is the laying down of the earthly, tangible garment in the bit- 
ter experience of death, before the new garment can be assumed ; 
3, ' To be clothed,' 3 that is, again clothed, after having been un- 
clothed at the fearful moment of death. The following is the sense 
of the passage : 4 We sigh to become clothed, upon. If we were 
only clothed, (according to the existing state — not clothed upon — 
though that is the deepest want of man, and therefore to be the 
most profoundly desired), then we should not be found naked. For 
we, who are in this tabernacle, groan, being burdened, though we 
do not desire to be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality may 
be swallowed up of life. The passage may be expressed concisely 
thus : ' We would not be clothed upon, well as we might long for 
that, but were we unclothed, we would still be again clothed.' 5 

If there are many mansions in our Father's house, many realms 
of life, then also there will be many kinds of heavenly bodies. One 
spirit will be clothed at the sun, of the material of the sun ; another at 
the moon, of the material of the moon ; a third at the stars, of the 
material of the stars. In the classical passage respecting the resur- 
rection, 1 Cor. 15: 39 seq., Paul first speaks of various kinds of 
flesh, 1 not all flesh is the same flesh, but there is one flesh of men, 
another of beasts, another of fishes, and another of fowls.' Then 
he speaks of various kinds of bodies : ' and there are celestial bo- 
dies and bodies terrestrial, but the glory of the celestial is one, and 
the glory of the terrestrial another.' Finally he speaks of the bodies 
in the universe, or the spheres of life. ' There is one glory of the 
sun, another glory of the moon, and another of the stars, for one 
star differs from another in glory.' Would Paul have given this 
entire exhibition, merely in order to show, by accumulated analo- 

1 iTTSpSvoaod-ai. 2 ixdvoaG&at. 3 ivS'aaad-tu. 

4 'EttsvS' aao&cu tTTLTio&ovvTeg • el'ys y.al ev§vad/u,evot } ov yvfivol £vQ£&q- 
aofis&a. Kal yap ol ovreg iv toj ov.r'jVei aravd'ofisv fiaoovfisvoi. erf at ov 
Xofitv oaad~ai aKK eTtsvSroaod'aij Iva y.arano-d r i l to &vtjtov vtiq tt^ :ojij$. 

3 See note N, at the close of this Article. 



286 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



gies, that the resurrection-body of man will be different from his 
existing body ? It rather seems, that in these analogies, he has 
given what may be termed the laws of organization, or incarnation. 
Therefore stands as preliminary, the great principle, 4 God hath 
given to it a body, as it pleases him,' (as Creator in the original de- 
cree), 4 and to each of the seeds its own body.' The seed-corn, or 
the inner vital principle, clothes itself in accordance with its inmost 
nature and necessities ; it assimilates its own as flesh. Hence on 
earth there are so many kinds of flesh, according to the diverse na- 
tures given to what God has created. But apart from all this variety, 
there are for these natures, man's, as an example, different ways or 
courses of life, and accordingly different bodies, earthly and heav- 
enly; the former fashioned for earthly needs, with earthly appe- 
tites, organized into sexes ; while the latter are fitted to the circum- 
stances of the heavenly state, according to the declaration of Jesus, 
4 these neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like the an- 
gels in heaven.' Thus the butterfly has an ethereal body, in some 
sense related to the earthly body which it has as a caterpillar. The 
assumption of a body, in the first place, depends on the inner prin- 
ciples of its being as a creature ; in the second place, on the stage 
of its development ; to which finally, the third thing is annexed, its 
dwelling place, whether the sun, or moon, or stars, since each kind 
of flesh takes its appropriate sphere of life. 

In the same manner as the old seed of wheat, so long sown as 
dead, shall come in a new, mature form, as it were, to its resurrec- 
tion and glorification, (retaining also an organization in its interme- 
diate state, in its changing form of a germ, a tender blade, a stalk), 
thus also the human spirit, in the intermediate state after death, is 
not without its organization. But as the old seed of wheat appears 
first in its new and perfect form, when it has undergone the process 
of renovation, thus also the dead will not come to their perfect, glo- 
rified state, till the resurrection of the body, which will take place at 
the end of the world. 

Professor Miiller remarks, p. 783, in opposition to Fichte, 4 that it 
is an indisputable doctrine of the Bible, that the resurrection of the 
dead will be universal and simultaneous, followed by the glorified 
change of those then alive— at the end of the world— at the second 
coming of Christ for judgment, and for the revelation of his glorious 
power. In close connection with this perfect manifestation of his 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



287 



power, and with the redemption of our body, which serves as a 
cause or occasion of this manifestation, the apostle has further added, 
in that profound passage, Rom. 8: 19 — 23, a glorification of terres- 
trial nature, a raising of it up so as to share in the glory of the chil- 
dren of God, in accordance, of course, with its appropriate manner. 
For the body of man exists in the closest and the most inseparable 
union with this nature ; and it is, therefore, scarcely possible to 
form a conception of the resurrection of the body, without includ- 
ing the glorified nature as the scene of its new life.'' 

The following sentiment is alike founded in the Bible. 1 This 
glorification of nature, however, this renovation of the heavens and 
the earth, according to the apostle, will not occur till the destruction 
of the present world.' It yet strikes us as remarkable, that Miiller 
finds a contradiction to this, when Fichte refers it [the glorification] 
to a higher nature and organization, ' which [higher nature] pene- 
trates that [nature] which is now observable only by our senses, 
and by which the former is veiled, at least for the present, and into 
which the departed spirit immediately enters.' In the first place, 
this is maintained by Fichte in respect to the earth ; its future de- 
struction will be only a change, whereby its higher nature will be 
developed, which had already existed, veiled in the lower. In the 
second place, it is assumed of all creatures ; their most anxious ex- 
pectation, their sighing and longing is towards a coming redemption 
from subjection to vanity, that they may be fixed in glorified forms, 
and their sighing is an expression of their original constitution — the 
primary tendencies of their nature. In the third place, the same 
thing is asserted of men, for the germ of the resurrection is now 
contained in the old, perishable body, (else this would be no seed- 
corn), and thus a higher organization is contained in the lower. 
Should this idea of Fichte be construed thus : ' that the departed 
spirit at death immediately assumes the resurrection-body,' then it is 
manifestly at variance with the Bible. 

The spiritual being of man remains at death, clothed only with 
that delicate garment derived from the general substance of the cre- 
ation; still, it has besides, in this form, the power, the elementary 
rudiment, the principle and scheme for every single organization in 
its new dwelling-place— for every organization in whatever world it 
may be. So then it has this tendency, this sort of capability, or 
preliminary ground for the resurrection of the body. In respect to 



288 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



the evidence of a higher nature, which lies concealed in our present 
nature, the transfiguration of Christ on the mountain is a conspicu- 
ous instance. 1 

We will now advert to the texts, Matt, xxv., John v., Rom. viii., 
1 Cor. xv., IThess. iv„ 2 Pet. Hi., and Rev. xx. and xxi. We here 
have the doctrine respecting the last things, with its great outlines 
linked together in a way which is full of mystery ; — the return of 
Christ, the end of the world, the resurrection of the dead, the final 
judgment, the renovation of the earth, the glorification of the 
righteous. The connections of the events are mysteriously deve- 
loped. In those lofty words, Rev. 20: 11, this stupendous, wonder- 
ful change is indicated. The old earth, with its heavens, flees away 
before the face of the universal Judge, seated on a great, white 
throne, so that no more place is found for them. Then follows the 
resurrection of the dead, the judgment, and the separation of death 
and hades and the lost souls of earth, who are together cast into the 
lake of fire. 

The end of the world comes with the last tremendous struggle 
between the kingdom of light and the kingdom of darkness, with 
the return of Christ to judgment, and the destruction of the old earth. 2 

1 Mailer alleges, p. 750, that Christ arose from the tomb with the same 
material body which he had before his crucifixion. As a proof he adduces 
the fact, that Christ ate, and that he showed Thomas the marks of his 
wounds. But very many proofs of an opposite kind may be alleged, the 
most important of which is the ascension into heaven. To the ascension 
belongs a glorified body, which had from the earth only that which was im- 
perishable. Might not a glorified one eat, while the food was transformed 
by an inward, higher, living energy into a superior element, or be chemically 
evaporated ? Is not the most gross and material substance evaporated into 
ether by means of forces of great power ? And could not the wounds in 
the body be verified by marks in the resurrection-body ? We may inquire, 
whether the change in the body of Christ was complete at the resurrection, 
or did it proceed gradually till the ascension, so that the moment of its 
completion was the moment of Christ's being received up, when the earthy 
band was wholly sundered? 

2 The declaration respecting a new heaven in addition to a new earth, 
may be taken in the same sense, as Gen. I., where the creation of the 
heavens, the sun, moon and stars is interwoven with the creation of the 
earth ; yet so that the preexistence of the stars is not denied, when it is said 
that they were made on the fourth day of the creation, in order to furnish 
an enlightened atmosphere for the earth. One may now see in a pure, thin, 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



289 



A revolution of the earth, which shakes and transforms the plane- 
tary system ; and which, while it occurs as the decree of God, at 
the last moment of the world's history, is also connected, as a subor- 
dinate natural phenomenon, with a great moral change in mankind, 
is the signal for the coming of Christ. Here the christian eschato- 
logy has almost anticipated a conclusion of philosophy, which well 
agrees with the idea of a future change of the globe. In the course 
of nature, the earth is destined, by the laws of heat, to be burned up 
with its works. Perhaps here is to be placed the white shining throne 
of the approaching Son of man, Rev., or his appearing in the clouds of 
heaven, Matt., or his coming with fiery flames for vengeance, 2 Thess. 
At one grand signal, the trump of God sounds — the voice of the arch- 
angel, 1 Thess., the voice of the Son of God, John, the passing 
away of the heavens with a great noise, 2 Pet. This is the myste- 
rious, extraordinary event, which, as a signal, shall assemble the 
entire race of man before the judgment seat of Christ on earth, who 
shall renew the earth with its works, shall change the living, shall 
awake the dead. 

In the thunder of that change, the earth shall yield up her dead. 
The spirits, assembled to judgment, shall be again clothed with ma- 
terials of earth. The earth itself shall be in a process of purifica- 
tion ; the perishable shall separate from the imperishable ; the hea- 
venly from the gross and stiff materials of earth. By the purifying 
flames, it shall be freed from death, the principle of destruction, 
from evil, and from every former curse. From the old materials of 
the earth, the spirit will not receive its body, but, in accordance with 
its inward nature, it will assimilate to itself that which is fitted to its 
development and formation. The saints may clothe themselves in 
the pure element of the renovated earth ; they will shine forth as 
the sun. ^ The incorrigible sinner shall be clothed in the dark, per- 
ishable, debased materials of earth ; according to Daniel, he will 
arise to shame and everlasting contempt ; according to the Apoca- 
lypse he will be cast, together with death, into the lake of fire. 

The reason why the resurrection of the just is mentioned so much 
more frequently than that of the wicked, is, possibly, because there 
remains for the latter only the garment of corruption for a covering, 

air, on high mountains, the heavens of a dark blue, and the stars burning as 
torches. Still this consideration would not exclude the final renovation of 
the universe in all its single parts. 

37 



290 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 



the smoke and mist of a curse, the degraded element of the old 
earth, so that they will share in the blackest, most ghostly raiment 
for the soul, thereby expressing their own broken, confused and 
hateful state. 

That the righteous will assume their body from the material of the 
purified earth, is in accordance with the promise by which they shall 
dwell on a new earth — a final fulfilment of the declaration : ■ The 
meek shall inherit the earth.' For by means of the assumption of a 
bodily organization, can they first come to tread, permanently, on 
this new starry home. But as their organism,, or the ideal form of 
their body, which has its foundation in the spiritual powers as they are 
developed, purified and formed in the soul, must assimilate to itself 
the requisite, corporeal, living material from the new earth, so then 
the resurrection of the flesh also must be taken into the account 
when we are considering this material. 

But how can an incarnation of this sort be viewed as a resurrec- 
tion of the dead, or as a calling them from the tomb r We answer, 
first, because the departed spirit has an element for the resurrection, 
a germ of the seed-corn derived from the old, decayed body. Se- 
condly, as in the old earth there lies the ground or elementary plan 
by which it may be renovated, so there lies in the ashes of the old 
life of man a ground for an everlasting growth for man, changed 
and to be changed. In the third place, as the departed have laid 
aside those corporeal substances which were entirely fitted to their 
organization here, so they will assume from the earth what is most 
appropriate to them, what belongs to them, what may serve as a robe 
to their spirits, taking again, as it were, their bodies from their 
graves. Then we are to add, in the fourth place, that the new body 
will have an organic identity with the old, though the lower organs 
which were exclusively adapted to the old life will not be found. 
The new body will be more delicate, more spiritual, fixed to an eter- 
nal state, a new, renovated image of the first body. 

Thus man's spirit assumes its organization from materials ichere 
it is. The same is also true in respect to the hoic, or the manner of 
this assumption. The inward, vital energy, the degree of life, the 
stage of interior development or of deterioration, the ground and the 
elementary conception, the rude notion and state of cultivation, eve- 
rything in the inward structure is forced to express itself in the out- 
ward form, or at least it struggles towards such an expression. Still 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



291 



these pictures or ideals here exist first in a process of growth, in con- 
stant change, and if they truly correspond in all the finer character- 
istics, still they are not entirely alike in what meets the eye. The 
outward appearance of man seems to be often in contrast with his 
inward condition, when it is not taken into the account that there are 
many apparent contrasts of this kind, which rest on false assumptions, 
as to the manner in which the spiritual ought to clothe itself in a cor- 
poreal form. A part, however, of the actual contrast depends on 
the circumstance, that the spiritual nature changes more rapidly than 
the corporeal. The former is endlessly active in its freedom ; the 
latter, in its immovable state, is in close connection with a natural 
necessity. But even in the noblest forms, from which we derive our 
opinion of the beauty of the original element or fundamental ground, 
there will still appear a kind of reflex action from the inward germ 
— or a step backward. Now another part of the contrariety in ques- 
tion consists in this, that the earthy man, the uvtjQ %om6?, is created 
out of spirit into the relations of life ; with this natural life, he exists 
under the influences of the external world, moral as well as physical. 
The proper development, or culture, of his nature, from within out- 
ward, may experience a strong retroactive influence from without, 
by which it will be modified. The first great action or influence of 
this kind consists in the manner in which the innate, original nature 
of man, [as formed by God], is darkened from its lustre through the 
hereditary, ingrafted depravity of a fallen race. Now as there is a 
general influence of this native depravity, so there are various spe- 
cial effects which it produces. Thus a child of the most beautiful 
kind may receive from the blood of its father a cause of sickness, 
which will disfigure its form. Other similar influences proceed from 
the manner of life, from one's destiny, from climate, from the na- 
tional spirit, and from other powerful influences. All these influen- 
ces may modify and interrupt the settled arrangements of human 
life ; they enter deeply within. In the most hidden springs of life, 
however, in the freedom of the spirit, they lose their predominant 
power, and on that part of our being can only avail in the way of 
excitement or misleading. Therefore man, however externally de- 
formed, distorted and mutilated, may be again restored from his in- 
ward life outward, to the living, perfect beauty of a new man, by 
applying the means of restoration. In spite of all external hindran- 
ces, he may wholly triumph over his outward man by virtue of his 



292 



THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 



inward movement. Though an apostate man, he may again rise 
with the help of grace. He can become more than conqueror over 
the dark force of nature whereby his outward man rules over his 
inward. And so far as the spirit has not marked out a course for 
itself, the body does not determine for it, but is itself to be regarded 
as a disposable power, so that in this sense the words of St. Martin 
are true, " The body is nothing more than a project or draught." 
As an imperfect plan, the body is only a copy of the nature of the 
inner man, but not of his moral condition. So also the corporeal 
form of man here below is no perfect picture of his inner. — But it 
will be otherwise. At the resurrection, the body will be a perfectly 
suitable form for the soul. The bodies of the righteous will be per- 
vaded and completely ruled by their spirits, as their spirit is by the 
Spirit of God. Therefore, they are spiritual bodies, an image of 
God, similar in fraternal traits to the glorified body of Jesus, 1 John. 
According to the same law, the forms of the wicked will be hateful, 
within and without ; they will arise to shame. 

But along with the glorification, or degradation, of those who shall 
rise, which has its ground in their inmost being, there is, also, to be 
considered, as before remarked, their place of residence. The ex- 
ternal sphere will furnish them their materials of organization. And 
in accordance with this, their external form will receive its modifi- 
cations. The science of ethnography now shows the same thing in 
the every day life of man. The diminutive Esquimaux and the gi- 
gantic Patagonian, the ugly Hottentot woman and the beautiful Cir- 
cassian, the awkward Mongol and the nobly formed Spaniard ; these 
all, in their contrast, lead us, at first indeed, to the difference in the 
intellectual faculties of their respective nations ; but this difference 
itself, in a certain degree, has its foundation in the thousand existing 
influences of climate, — as children may show at the present time, 
indirectly, in their forms, what their country is, and the region where 
they live. And in accordance with some such analogies or marks, 
must the new earth be inhabited by forms of human beauty, while 
the outer darkness where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth 
will clothe, as it were, caricatures of the human form. 1 

1 1 have now. for the first time, after completing the above remarks, been 
able to read the essay itself of Fichte. I have done so with much pleasure 
and satisfaction. In order to correct what was my supposition of Ficbte's 
idea, and which was founded on the above mentioned notice of him. and 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



293 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 

NOTE A, p. 229. 

Respecting the author of this Commentary. Dr. JL. J. Ruckert, we have 
been able to find but very scanty notices Previously to 1826, he appears to 
have resided in a small village in the vicinity of Zittau, in the Saxon part of 
Upper Lusatia. From 1826 to 1837 or 1838. he was employed as a teacher 
in the flourishing gymnasium in Zittau. a town of about 8.000 inhabitants. 
From various allusions in his writings, we infer that he has encountered no 
little opposition, and even personal hardship, in consequence of the indepen- 
dence with which he avows his religious opinions. In the summer of 1838, 
we find him in Leipsic, establishing a " Magazine for the Exegeis and The- 
ology of the New Testament." The first number is written wholly by the 
editor, and contains 146 pages. About ninety pages are employed on the 
ninth chapter of Romans, from which the author concludes that Paul teach- 
es the doctrine of predestination. Another article is on the situation of Ga- 
latia, and the time when the epistle to the Galatians was written. The 
Magazine is to be entirely occupied with the exegesis of the New Testament. 
In the Preface, he has the following remark : " Employ all the proper 
means in your power to ascertain the true sense of the writer; give him 
nothing of thine ; lake from him nothing that is his. Never inquire what 
he ought to say ; never be afraid of what he does say. It is your business 
to learn, not to teach. From this principle I cannot depart in the least, al- 

consequently, for a correction of the notice itself, I must observe, that Fichte 
by no means regards the resurrection of the body immediately after death, 
as actually realized in the organic, continued existence of the soul. He on- 
ly seeks to prove physiologically the personality and individual existence of 
man in death. But the further question, namely, to what particularly be- 
longs the resurrection of the body, he leaves for a religious-philosophy to 
discuss. The fundamental view in which he grounds immortality, is close- 
ly, though independently, connected with Goethe's doctrine of an indestruc- 
tible monad. We may, undoubtedly, greet this work of an eminent philos- 
opher as an important advance in the philosophical, fundamental proof of 
immortality. The conviction expressed by me in the foregoing essay, that 
an existence in space, n.xchere, must be ascribed to the departed spirit of man, 
will be found handled in the treatise of Fichte, variously, with the greatest 
precision, and with a philosophical clearness. Would that he had been able 
to have contended successfully for the widest prevalence of this conviction 
over the territory of philosophy, where a belief in immortality will decay at 
its very roots, so long as the opposite doctrine is predominant. 



294 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



though it is unpopular, and I well know what it will cost me, and what 
personal sacrifices I have been obliged already to make." 

Some years since, Riickert published in two volumes, " Philosophy of 
History, or Philosophy of History and of the Bible in relation to each other." 
In 1831, he brought out his Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, a 
second edition of which has just made its appearance. The first edition is 
in a volume of 700 pages. We have never seen a copy of the work, nor 
scarcely what may be called a review of it, in the German periodicals. In 
the Halle Allgemeine Literatur Zeitung for Sept. 1835, it is noticed by an 
anonymous critic, who is apparently under the influence of prejudice and 
ill will. He makes a long parade of the errors into which he says Riickert 
has fallen, while he scarcely alludes to the excellencies of the book, though 
he acknowledges that there are many things which are correct and worthy 
of attention. We apprehend that somewhat of the reviewer's ill-nature is 
to be attributed to Ruckert's independence of thought, and unwillingness to 
fall into the style of commentary which suits so many of the gentlemen who 
manage the Journal at Halle. This may possibly explain some allusions 
which we find in the Preface to Ruckert's Commentary on the first Epistle 
to the Corinthians, published at Leipsic in 1836. We quote the following 
sentence. " In conclusion, it only remains for me to express the wish, that 
the portion of the public that have hitherto been favorable to me, may still 
remain so. The opponents, in part the authors themselves of commenta- 
ries on the epistles explained by me, who have made me feel pretty strongly 
their censorial importance — even to menaces — are still at liberty to exercise 
their office on my labors. So far as they are in the right, I w-ill seek to pro- 
fit by their remarks, whether made in a friendly or inhuman manner, so that 
my undertaking— the sound interpretation of the great apostle — may be ad- 
vanced. What objections of a personal nature they may have to propound, 
1 shall, as hitherto, pass by in silence." In the Preface to his Commentary 
on the second Epistle to the Corinthians, published in 1837, he says: " That 
which I have accomplished I commit to the unprejudiced examination of 
reasonable critics. Whatever opinions or even confutations of my positions 
1 may see, — for these I shall be grateful. Some things may escape me in 
consequence of the location in which 1 find myself. When occasion offers, 
earlier or later, I shall seek to profit by these criticisms. On the first part — 
the Commentary on the first Epistle — no judgment has been expressed to 
my knowledge, except that the sale which it has found in the course of the 
first year, seems to show that the public are not unfriendly to it " 

The principles on which Riickert proceeds in his expositions, are stated in 
the Preface to his Comment on the Romans, and are quoted in the Review 
of the Halle Journal, above referred to. 1 In the first place, says Riickert, a 
commentary should be philological. This implies an exact knowledge of the 
language and its idioms ; an historical knowledge of all important matters 
relating to the condition of the people and of the age to which the w riting 
belongs ; logic, that is, a strict prosecution of the course of thought, not 
merely from verse to verse, but even through the entire argument of a sec- 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



295 



tion or division, with an accurate development of the proofs adduced by the 
author ; and imagination, that is, a lively versatility, by means of which the 
interpreter divests himself of his individuality, and assumes the very posi- 
tion of his author. In the second place, a commentary must be impartial. 
The interpreter of the New Testament has no system and ought to have 
none, neither a doctrinal sjstem, nor one where sentiment predominates. 
As an exegete, he is neither orthodox nor heterodox, neither a supernatural- 
ist, rationalist nor pantheist; he is actuated neither by pious feelings nor by 
those of a contrary character; he is neither moral nor immoral; neither of 
tender sensibilities nor the reverse. His only business is to investigate the 
meaning of what his author says, and to leave other things to philosophers, 
doctrinal writers and moralists. As an interpreter, his only interest is right- 
ly to understand his author, and exhibit his thoughts to the reader without 
any foreign admixture. In the third place, a commentary should not be 
crowded with matters not immediately connected iciih it: Rilckert here refers 
to the intermingling of illustrations from authors belonging to other nations 
and times. This rule is frequently transgressed by quotations from the 
classics, f F ourthly, a commentary should be methodical. The sense of eve- 
ry passage should be so exhibited before the reader, that he shall see the 
right explanation gradually developing itself, and while, with perfect free- 
dom his own thoughts are following the interpreter, he may obtain through 
him a correct exegesis.' 

In the Preface to the first Epistle to the Corinthians, Ruckert remarks, 
that the < principles, as well as the whole method of my interpretation, have 
been vehemently assailed. I have made no change, because I remain con- 
vinced of the correctness of these principles. My mode of interpretation, 
and indeed my whole manner, have become so established, that I could not 
expound in a different way, without first becoming a new man.' Again, in 
the second Epistle, < the peculiarities of this Epistle have compelled me 
sometimes to tread on conjectural ground, and 1 have occasionally arrived 
at results which differ from those of my predecessors. Still I am conscious- 
of never having run after hypotheses, and those which I have been com- 
pelled to exhibit, have been employed with that freedom in the way of illus- 
tration with which I am accustomed to regard subjects of an unusual cha- 



racter. 



Ruckert, so far as we have been able to judge from the portions of his 
commentaries which we have read, is faithful to his principles. A striking 
characteristic, on every page, is the straight forward manner in which he 
advances to his object. He turns neither to the right hand nor to the left. 
His single object is to develop the ideas of his author. In doing this, he is 
perfectly ready to march against the frowning batteries and proudly'cher- 
ished structures of his predecessors, or even to pass on to his object without 
the slightest notice of their labors. This honesty of aim, this directness of 
purpose, we cannot but admire. We have increased confidence in the in- 
vincibleness of truth. We have more unwavering trust in those great doc- 
trines which can endure this sharp-sighted critic, which come out unim- 



296 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



peached from the most severe cross-questioning. The advocates of the faith 
of Jesus are sometimes accused of timidity when they approach the Scrip- 
tures ; they shrink back from an avowal of their honest opinions; they see 
difficulties, it is said, which they are afraid to avow ; from education or su- 
perstition they are not accustomed to subject the Bible to that rigid canvass, 
which they not only tolerate but require, in respect to the histories of Hume 
■and Gibbon. Here, however, we have a writer who has no fears of this 
■character. He boldly confronts his author. He does not permit him to 
hide in the precincts of the sanctuary or to take hold of the horns ot the altar. 
He looks steadily at the real value of the thought, at the logical coherence 
of the reasoning. If the author seems to fail in these respects, his com- 
mentator is not afraid to say so. Here we have accordingly, the testimony 
of an impartial judge, who sets out with the determination to render just 
judgment, unwarped by his imagination or feelings. 

It will be understood, of course, that we do not approve of all the modes 
of expression which Ruckert has adopted on this subject. That he agrees 
substantially with orthodox commentators in this country, we have no 
doubt. At the same time his views of the inspiration of the sacred writers 
appear to be erroneous. We apprehend that he has been somewhat influen- 
ced, insensibly, by the neological notions prevalent around him. He does not 
grant that degree of inspiration to the sacred penmen which they justly chal- 
lenge, and which infallibly secures them from error. One must bear in mind, 
however, the unfriendly climate in which the author has lived. We cannot 
judge him harshly, if we knew all against which he, and men like him, have 
to contend. Were this not so, had the orthodox doctrines prevailed always 
and universally in Germany, still the modes of interpretation adopted by 
these men would differ from our own. They are Germans. They are not 
descended from the English Puritans. They hold Luther and Melancthon 
in the highest veneration. Their whole system of intellectual and religious 
education is very different from the New England mode. Instead, however, 
of rejecting their commentaries and theological systems on this account, it 
becomes us to study them, to adopt what is good, and to throw the bad 
away. Are we afraid of the stability of our own views ? Are we bigotted 
enough to imagine that we have obtained the best possible modes of illus- 
trating truth ? Do we complacently judge that our minds do not need to be 
any further enlarged and liberalized ? < 

We maybe here permitted to say a word in regard to Ruckert's principles 
of interpretation. As we find them stated in the Halle Journal, they are li- 
able to be misunderstood and misinterpreted. Of the importance of a logi- 
cal mind in an interpreter of the Bible, especially of Paul's writings, no 
one can doubt. Paul has chains of argu ment, long and sometimes close pro- 
cesses of reasoning. His thoughts are not thrown out at hap-hazard. At 
the same time, his writings are not to be judged by the technical logic of 
the schools. In many cases, he employs arguments which may not be 
strictly logical, but which are perfectly proper, and fitted to make a deep im- 
pression. In fact no other mode of exhibiting a subject would be so appro- 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 297 

priate to the time, place and other circumstances. If they were dialecti- 
cally presented, they would be uninfluential. The conception owes its ori- 
gin to deeper feelings than those possessed by the mere logician. It is in- 
tended to benefit man, who has a compound nature, feelings, sensibilities, 
imagination, as well as the discursive faculty. Besides, the Scriptures com- 
municate truths which possess no logical connection, in the strict sense of 
that term. They are revealed facts which we could have never inferred 
from any principles of natural reason. They are not, indeed, illogical facts. 
The Bible never employs an inconsequential mode of reasoning. They are 
not barren and naked facts. They are fitted most perfectly to o°ur moral and 
intellectual nature. They satisfy the deepest wants of our being. But we 
could not have inferred, from the existence of these wants, the mode which 
God would have taken to satisfy them. Neither can we discover in many 
of these facts any thing like a mathematical connection. It is a doctrine of 
the Bible, that none of those who have been given to the Son shall fail of 
eternal life, or, in other words, that all true Christians shall infallibly be 
saved. But this could not be deduced from any principle in man. It does 
not follow from the nature of true piety, viewed simply in relation to its 
possessor. It depends solely on the power and promise of God. In the 
case of the fallen angels it would have been, perhaps, the natural and ra- 
tional inference that they would have forever persevered in a progress to- 
wards the great end of their original creation. The provision of a Saviour 
for lost man could not have been logically reasoned out, any more than the 
want of such a provision in the case of the lost angel. It therefore de- 
mands sound sense in the commentator to judge when he is to apply his 
dialectical principles. It may be that in some cases, he ought rather to re- 
fer to his rhetoric— to a cultivated taste, to a chastened imagination, or to the 
emotions of an enlightened and ardent piety. 

What Rilckert says in respect to impartiality in a commentator is perhaps 
capable of a sense altogether right and proper. He certainly ought not to 
bring any prejudices, any preconceived opinions, to the illustration of Scrip- 
ture. He must be impartial. If he is liable to be governed by impulse, if 
he has an unfounded attachment to system, if he is a man of warm imagina- 
tion, he must be particularly on his guard. The interpreter of the Bible 
must be free from bias, from sectarian prejudice, from everything which 
would distort his judgment, or weaken any of his intellectual or moral 
powers. 

He will not. however, he cannot be, without a theological system. A 
careful and intelligent perusal of the Scriptures will lead him to perceive 
that they contain certain doctrines, and that they discard certain others 
which have been attributed to them. He sees that the Bible reveals certain 
facts. He believes in these facts. He need not call them doctrines, or form 
them into a theological system. But with this preestablished belief, he does 
proceed to the interpretation of the Scriptures. It cannot be otherwise. 
The mind of man is so formed, that it must have a belief of some kind or 
38 



298 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



other. The human intellect is not a piece of white paper. It is framed to 
perceive truth, and to delight in system. 

Again, we maintain that the interpreter must possess pious feelings in or- 
der properly to expound the Bible. A neutral condition in this respect is 
not conceivable. A state of equipoise, of absolute indifference, is impossi- 
ble. He will either love the truths of the Bible, or dislike them. If the lat- 
ter is the case, he cannot be a safe interpreter. He will be inevitably bias- 
sed. He will be insensibly led to explain away or confound doctrines 
which are at variance with his feelings. It will be very easy for him to ar- 
ray philosophical reasons against a doctrine which fills him with pain or 
disgust. This is exhibited by some of the learned and, in many respects, 
excellent commentators of Germany. We would not trust some of them in the 
exposition of doctrines, because we fear they have not the feelings which qua- 
lify them to be interpreters. The heart is as necessary as the head. A 
sound intellect is no more indispensable than pious feelings for him who 
would interpret the mysteries of the gospel. Porson or Hermann may 
interpret Pindar or Horace, but they are not competent to expound Isaiah or 
Galatians. An expositor must be a man, in the symmetrical or complete 
sense of that word. Accordingly he must possess ardent and enlightened 
piety. Else he is essentially deficient. How should we regard him who 
should attempt to comment on Homer or Milton without a particle of ima- 
gination, without one responsive emotion in his own bosom to the sublime 
conceptions of his authors ? How ought we to look upon the expositor of 
the Scriptures who has no heartfelt sympathy with the feelings of David 
and Paul ? 

We may repeat again that we are not to be considered as responsible for 
every thing which Ruckert advances. His errors seem to have arisen main- 
ly from low or incorrect views of the nature of inspiration. Accordingly, 
he treats the inspired apostle too much as he would a pagan Greek or 
Roman. In some cases, we have added notes, which give the views of other 
commentators. We have not judged it necessary, however, to do this in eve- 
ry instance. Thus on pp. 274, 275, and elsewhere, Ruckert takes for granted, 
as many other Germans do, that Paul expected to live till the second com- 
ing of Christ, or at least that he believed that coming to be very near. No- 
thing, however, is to be admitted on this difficult point which will conflict 
with the inspiration of the apostle, especially since he has himself asserted, 
2Thess. II., that important events were to precede the coming of the Lord. 
On the passage relating to this subject in our epistle, and in the epistles to 
the Thessalonians, the remarks of Grotius, Calvin, Schott, Pelt and Bloom- 
field may be consulted. 

We may here mention, that remarks of a critical nature in the text, and 
those included in parentheses, we have frequently transferred to the bottom 
of the page as notes. 

NOTE B, p. 233. 

We translate the following remark from the author's Introduction to his 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



299 



Commentary, in respect to the words iv tcqojtols. ' In and of themselves, in- 
deed, the words can mean nothing else, than that the Corinthians were 
among the first who received the message concerning the death and resur- 
rection of Christ. But it is not necessary to understand the words in the 
strictest sense. It is possible to regard Corinth, which was actually the fact, 
as one of the first cities of Achaia to which the gospel was preached,' etc. 
Olshausen remarks : ' The nqdna, among which he includes the points 
which he immediately subjoins, are what are designated in Heb. 6: 1 seq., as 
d'Sfii/ua or oroiyda. The death, burial and resurrection of Jesus were the 
only topics which he made prominent,' etc. Comm. p. 678. Billroth ap- 
proves of Chrysostom's explanation ; ' and not only so, but the doctrine was 
a necessary one, wherefore it was delivered iv ttqo'jtois,' etc. Billroth p. 206. 
Flatt p. 354, accords with Chrysostom, 1 It was the first, and at the same 
time, the mosr special instruction,' etc. See Heydenreich II. p. 458. 1 The 
resurrection was preached by him and made, as it were, the principal topic 
of the gospel. It was in a manner the foundation of the structure,' Calvin 
1. p. 387. The interpretation suggested by Rilckert seems to us to be forced 
and unnatural. Is not the expression illustrated by what Paul says, 1 Cor. 
2: 2. ' For 1 determined not to know any thing among you save Jesus Christ 
and him crucified ?■ The following passages from the Sept. may throw some 
light on the phrase iv ttqo'jtoiS) • And he placed the two maid servants and 
their children first, iv 7TQOJTOig/ G-en. 33: 2. ' And David said, whoever 
smiteth the J ebus'ite first, iv hqoItol?.' 

NOTE C, p. 236. 

* Without doubt,' remarks Billroth, 1 on the way to Damascus.' In 1 Cor. 
9: 1 Paul says : < Have J not seen Jesus Christ our Lord ?' This Billroth 
refers to the appearance narrated Acts IX. XXII. and XXVI. < Paul is here 
asserting his apostolic dignity, in respect to which he was on an equality 
with the other apostles. It was necessary that Christ should have appeared 
to him in the same manner that he did to them, after his resurrection.' See 
Gal. 1: 16. 1 It must be clear to every unprejudiced mind that 1 Cor. 9: 1, 
cannot refer to Paul's having seen Jesus during his life on earth, though the 
thing itself is possible ; for this would have no connection with his apostolic 
calling ; nor can it refer to a mere perception and acknowledgement of the 
doctrine of Christ.' Neander Pflanzung, 1. p. 112. See also Olshausen on 
1 Cor. 9: 1. Flatt p. 357. 

NOTE D, p. 244. 

Various attempts have been made to reconcile the reasoning of Paul with 
the rules of the logicians, or to show how it legitimately follows that the re- 
surrection of believers will take place in consequence of the resurrection of 
Christ. Our author seems to imply that there is some deficiency in the rea- 
soning of the apostle, that his premises do not support his conclusions. Is 
it a case, however, where the formulae of logic are applicable ? Does Paul 



*> uu NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 

here intend to reason dialectically ? Does he mean to assert any philoso- 
phical connection between the physical laws of one being and those of 
others, between Christ's body and those of the Corinthian Christians? 
Would it follow logically that the bodies of all Christians shall be raised 
from the grave, because there had been a single instance, that of Christ, 
showing the possibility of the thing ? Was an example of the possibility 
necessary after the raising of Lazarus ? Might we not, on good grounds, 
argue that the redemption wrought out by Christ would have received 
a perfect accomplishment in the eternal salvation of the disembodied spirits 
of all believers ? 

Is not Paul here stating a revealed fact ? Does he not remind the Corin- 
thians that what he had preached to them as the gospel, and which had 
been communicated to him by direct revelation, included in its promised 
results the resurrection of the body; that salvation would not be complete 
without the resurrection of the bodies of all who slept in Jesus ;— that as the 
sin of Adam had brought death upon the body, thus the righteousness of 
Christ would impart life to that body— so that in every respect Christ might 
come off conqueror, yea more than conqueror ! 

It is certain that great prominence is given by the apostles to the fact of 
the resurrection of Jesus. Thus Paul, < That they should live not unto 
themselves but for him who died for them and rose again.' * Who was de- 
livered for our offences and raised again for our justification.' \ That he 
might free us from the punishment due to our sins.' < And if thou believest 
in thy heart that God raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.' At 
Athens Paul preached Jesus and the resurrection. Peter writes, < by the 
resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead we are begotten again to a lively 
hope,' of obtaining an unfading and an eternal inheritance. 

It appears, likewise, to have been a current doctrine in the preaching of 
the apostles, that the bodies of t he saints should as certainly share in the fe- 
licity of heaven as their spirits— that in both respects they should be like 
their glorified head. < Who shall change— transfigure— our vile body and 
fashion it like unto his glorious body.' < Who is the beginning, the first 
born from the dead, that in all things he might have the preeminence.' < For 
if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, so also those who sleep in Je- 
sus will God bring with him.' 

' . NOTE E, p. 251. . 

Temporal Death. It will be seen that Calvin accords with Rackert. " The 
-cause of death is Adam, and we die in him; therefore Christ, whose office 
is to restore what we lost in Adam, is to us the cause of life, and his resur- 
rection is the foundation and pledge of ours. As the one was the original 
of death, so the other is of life. The apostle pursues the same comparison 
in the fifth chapter to the Romans, with this difference, that there he treats 
of spiritual life and death, but here of the resurrection of the body, which is 
the fruit of spiritual life." Comm. in Eph. I. 3V2. « Altogether similar to 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



301 



Rom. 5: 12 seq., except that there the reference to spiritual life predomi- 
nates." Olshausen, p. 684. " In the Epistle to the Romans, death and the 
resurrection are not expressly contrasted, but death and life, xardxQi/na and 
dixatojoig Lw?jg , from which last, however, the resurrection follows." Bill- 
roth Comm. p. 217. 



NOTE F, p. 253. 

Resurrection of the tricked. From the passage, Acts 24: 15 and the con- 
text, we learn that the doctrine of a resurrection of the unjust, as well as of 
the just, belonged to the general strain of the apostle's preaching. He asserts, 
that he worships the same God with the Jews, receives the same sacred 
books, and has the same belief in the resurrection both of the good and the 
bad. Christ himself says, John 5: 28, 29, < All who are in their graves shall 
hear the voice of the Son of Man, and those who have done well shall come 
forth to the resurrection of life, those who have done evil to the resurrection 
of condemnation.' This was a common mode of speech among the Jews, 
Mace. 7: 14. 12: 43. Dan. 12: 3. Compare also Rev. 20: 5, 6. 1 Thess.4: ic! 



NOTE G, p. 259. 

Baptism for the Dead. It seems from Tertullian, that there were heads of 
families in the East, who, on a particular day every year, namely on the 
Calends of February, renewed the rite of baptism in behalf of their friends 
who had died without baptism, in imitation of the Feralia instituted by the 
Romans, and observed in February. The object of the feast and sacrifices, 
was to obtain rest for the souls of their departed friends. " The apostle, 
however," adds Tertullian, « ought not to be considered the author or fa- 
vorer of this custom." « Noli apostolum novum statim auctorem aut con- 
firmatorem eum denotare, ut tanto magis sisteret carnis resurrectionem, 
quanto illi, qui vane pro mortuis- baptizarentur, fide resurrectionis hoc face- 
rent. Habemus ilium alicubi unius baptismi definitorem. Igitur pro mortuis 
tingui, pro corporibus est tingui." These last words seem to intimate the 
manner in which Tertullian construed the passage before us. Tertull. Adv. 
Marcion. v. 10. « Si et baptizantur quidam pro mortuis, videbimus, an ra- 
tione ? Certe ilia presumtione hoc eos instituisse contendit, qua alii etiam 
carni vicarium baptisma profuturum ad spem resurrectionis, quae nisi cor- 
poralis, non alius hie baptismate corporali obligaretur." See the passages 
in Sender's ed. of Tertull. 1. 351. III. 242. Also Heydenreich Comm. 11. 
518. The following passage is translated from Epiphanius Haer. 48. p. 113, 
edit. Colon. » For in this country, 1 speak of Asia, and also in Galatia, the 
opinion of these persons was widely spread. Some report of it has come 
down to us. It is this : when any individuals among them had died without 
baptism, others were baptized into their name instead of them, lest, being 
unbaptized, they might be raised at the resurrection to condemnation and 
punishment." Chrysostom, Homil. 40 in Cor., remarks, » When a death 



302 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



occurred among them, they concealed a living man under the couch of him 
who had died, and approached the deceased with the inquiry, < whether he 
desired to receive baptism.' He making no reply, the one concealed be- 
neath him, then answered, [ that he desired to be baptized,' and so they bap- 
tized him in the place of the departed." The following is the commentary 
of Ambrose. " Paul, in order to show that the doctrine of the resurrection 
was perfectly established, quoted the example of those persons, who were so 
secure of a future resurrection, that they were even baptized for the dead, if 
one died before having received that rite, fearing either that the deceased 
would not rise at all, or only to condemnation. Thus a living man was bap- 
tized in the name of the dead. Whence Paul subjoins, * Why are they bap- 
tized for them ?' By this example, he did not approve their custom, but by 
it he wished to show how firm was the faith in a resurrection." 

Perhaps the quotations above will not be regarded by all as sufficient to 
prove the existence of the custom in the primitive churches, or at least that 
it was a custom adopted extensively enough to allow of the apostle's refer- 
ence to it. As Heydenreich remarks, we can never come to entire satisfac- 
tion in respect to it. Paul speaks of a usage which was perfectly well- 
known to the Corinthians, while contemporary notices of it are wanting to 
us. In favor of the interpretation above maintained, we have the very im.- 
portant consideration that every word is taken in its natural sense, and thus 
the exposition originates from the words themselves. Most, if not all the 
other modes of solution, do violence, in a greater or less degree, to some one 
if not to all the words in the clause. Olshausen says, 'that if representative 
baptism be referred to, an approbation of the custom certainly lies in the 
passage, for its whole scope rests on the ground that if the dead are raised, 
then they will have gained something by the fact that the rite had been per- 
formed for them.' But may it not be a mere a.rgumcntum ad hominem ? the 
employment of that which would be a good argument in the view of the per- 
sons addressed ? Is it not similar to Matt. 12: 27, 11 And if 1 by Beelzebub 
cast out devils, by whom do your children cast them out, therefore they shall 
be your judges?" Whitby remarks on this passage, as quoted by Dr. Scott, 
that " Christ uses this as an argument ad homines ; that they who professed 
themselves to cast out devils by the God of Abraham, had no reason to say, 
that he did it by the prince of devils." Certainly Christ is not to be under- 
stood by this language to approve of the practice of exorcism. As little may 
Paul be supposed to approve of representative baptism. It is possible that 
at some other time he expressly discountenanced it. Or he might have 
viewed it, as Ruckert intimates, as one of those comparatively harmless ob- 
servances which would soon disappear of itself, if it were not harshly de- 
nounced. Tt seems to us to be a much more rational exegesis than that of 
Olshausen, who supposes that before the coming of Christ and the resurrec- 
tion, there must be a definite number of believers — the fullness must come 
in. This must take place before the dead could be raised. All then who 
were baptized, in a sense benefitted the dead — did that which was necessary 
before the dead could rise. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



303 



NOTE H, p. 261. 

lotacism. The common usage of the Reuchlinian pronunciation is the 
following: r t is pronounced like*; the diphthong at like e m there ; the 
diphthongs sij 01, v and vi ? are all not to be distinguished from t 3 etc. This 
mode of pronunciation is sometimes called lotacism or Racism {i as in ma- 
chine) because it gives to so many vowels the sound of*. See Robinson's 
Buttmann, p. 23. 

NOTE 1, p. 271. 

Docetae. The Docetae were a sect of the Gnostics who held that Jesus 
Christ was a mere phantasm, (pdvraafxaj destitute of a real body, that he 
lived, labored and suffered only in appearance. The first Epistle of John 
belongs to that age. when this Docetic or Gnostic error was gradually be- 
coming more dangerous, and specially in Asia Minor. The Manichaeans 
held that Christ descended from the sun in a seeming body, to lead men to 
the worship of the true God. It is supposed that 1 John h 1—3, and 4: 1— 
6 were designed to oppose the doctrine of the Docetae. See Fosdick's Hug, 
p. 732, Cunningham's Gieseler I. 69, Liicke Comm. on Ep. John Einl. 62? 

NOTE J, p. 278. 

We do not print these remarks of Lange as a supplement to, or a carry- 
ing out of the views of Riickert. Many of them are rather to be consider- 
ed as a counterpart. As speculations, they may have, or may not have, 
foundation in truth. They are of such a nature that nothing positive can 
be affirmed of them. Some of them, however, appear to have no solid foun- 
dation. Such, undoubtedly, are his notions on the form or external cover- 
ing, which he supposes the spirit will assume from the place or sphere of its 
future abode. There are also passages of Scripture which, it seems to us, 
he does not rightly interpret. We object also to the air of dogmatism with 
which some things are propounded. Lange speaks with the confidence of 
one who actually knows. Why then, it may be asked, is the Article insert- 
ed ; We answer, first, because it contains interesting truth, or at least hints 
and suggestions, on topics of intense personal concern to every human be- 
ing. Who can look with indifference on the events which await him as a 
disembodied spirit, or on the condition of his body, when it shall be raised 
from the tomb ? The attempt to repress curiosity on this subject, by calling 
hard names, as Gnosticism, mysticism, and the like, is vain. From the in- 
most recesses of our being, we rebel against any restraint of this kind. We 
are not at liberty, indeed, to state as scriptural truth, what we may imagine 
or conjecture. We must not avow our surmises as articles of -belief. Still, 
we have no right to discourage the efforts which the human mind makes in 
this direction, so long as they do not contradict the Bible. What is Para- 
dise Lost but a series of lofty imaginations, on subjects where the Scriptures 



304 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR, 



afford but a slight basis ? And yet who condemns the great poet ? Second- 
ly, the article of Lange is a specimen of the boundless fertility of the Ger- 
man mind. The creation would seem to be ransacked — and sometimes the 
Germans launch forth extra flammantia moenia mundi — for every possible 
topic of discussion and speculation. Can we altogether blame them in this 
matter ? The human intellect when its energies are repressed in one direc- 
tion, will burst out in another. If scope for practical effort is denied, it will 
adventure itself on a course of the most hardy theorizing. We Americans, 
however, may derive benefit from becoming acquainted with the irrepressi- 
ble energy of the Germans. We are in little danger of losing our practical 
individuality, or of adopting what we do not believe. But if we do not, in 
our fancied perfection, gain any new views of truth or duty, we may receive 
some recompense in the increased activity of our minds. We may derive 
benefit by being thrown out of the range of our hackneyed habits of think- 
ing. 

In the remarks of Lange, also, we have a striking contrast to the com- 
mentary of Riickert. The latter is strictly exegetical — an exposition of the 
text and nothing else. Lange enters on a different field, and if he accom- 
plishes nothing else, will, at least, show by contrast the value of a gen- 
uine commentator. That he has done more than this, however, we think 
all candid judges will admit. 

Of the author we know nothing, except that he is a preacher in Duis- 
burg. His remarks, here translated, are found in Stud. u. Krit. Vol. IX. pp. 
C93 — 713. The Article of Miiller, to which Lange refers in the beginning 
of his remarks, is found on pp. 703 — 796, of the 8th vol. of that work. Rich- 
ter's essay was entitled, " The Doctrine of the Last Things." This was 
reviewed by Weisse in the Journal of Philosophical Criticism for Septem- 
ber, 1833 ; and again in the same periodical in January, 1834, by Goschel. 
In 1834, Weisse published a pamphlet with the title, " The philosophical, 
mysterious doctrine of the Immortality cf the individual Man." In the same 
year, Fichte published " The Idea of Personality and of the individual, con- 
tinued Existence." This last was subsequently reviewed by Weisse. These 
various essays and reviews are made the subject of the Article by Miiller to 
which Lange refers. Professor Miiller concludes as follows : " Thus we 
have, in the foregoing essays and papers, three different attempts to estab- 
lish, on philosophical grounds, the faith in a personal immortality." " In 
conclusion, the reviewer cannot conceal his conviction that philosophy can 
never furnish any proof, strictly considered, for a personal immortality, so 
that from the idea of personality, the imperishable, continued existence of a 
being to whom that personality belongs, would follow with absolute neces- 
sity." " An unconditional and perfect necessity belongs only to the eter- 
nity of God, as an absolute Being, who has the ground of existence in him- 
self. In this sense, he is the onty one who hath immortality, 1 Tim. 6: 16. 
That God is mortal, that he can cease to exist, is a manifest inconsistency, 
it is something absolutely inconceivable. But in the supposition that a cre- 
ated being may cease to exist, as he had an origin, there is no absolute con- 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 3Q§ 

tradiction. The knowledge of the existence of this personality certainly 
leads to the recognition of its immortality, and it exists in close relation with 
it. But this relation can by no means be regarded in the form of a necessa- 
ry conclusion from the personality." The author then remarks, that philo- 
sophy finds its appropriate place in confirming and illustrating the revela- 
tions of Christianity on this subject. 

We may here mention that Mailer is, or was lately, a professor at Gottin- 
gen. Goschel is a professor at Berlin, lmmanuel Hermann Fichte is a son 
of the celebrated philosopher, whose life he has published. He is himself 
an able philosophical writer, and is a professor at a gymnasium at Dussel- 
aorf Christian Hermann Weisse was born at Leipsic in J 801. Since 1827 
he has been professor of philosophy at Leipsic. He has distinguished him- 
self by h.s spirit and acuteness in philosophical investigations, at first in the 
manner of Hegel, but of late with more independence 

In the 8th vol. of the Stud. u. Krit, J. O. Mailer, a licentiate of theology 
at Bale, has inserted an essay on the question, < Is not the doctrine of the Re- 
surrection of the Body one of the ancient Persian Doctrines ?' He contends 
m oppos.tion to Havernick, that it was one of the articles of belief in the' 
old Parsee system. In the 9th vol. pp. 187-219, Weisse reviews a volume 
of Goschel entitled, < Proofs of the Immortality of the Human Soul.' G6s- 
cnel, ,n the same volume, presents a positive philosophical theory on the soul 
and immortality, and endeavors to show that the doctrine of immortality is 
not peculiar to any one philosophical system, but is the united result and 
import of all the philosophical investigations of all times and of all philoso- 
phy, schools. Weisse finds occasion to controvert some of the main posi- 
tions of Goschel. In the subsequent number of the work, Weisse himself 
has inserted an essay of more than 150 pages on the Philosophical Import of 
the Christ.an Doctrine of the Last Things. We have also a paper in the 
same volume from the pen of Weizel, a repetent in Tabingen, on the primi- 
tive cbnst.an doctrine of the immortality of the soul. These references 
w, 11 serve to show the fertility of the Germans, and the interest which is 
telt on this and on kindred subjects. 

NOTE K, p. 278. 

Eschatology. -This is from the Greek h'oyaros Xoyo Sj < Doctrine of the Last 
Things, Res ultimae aut novissimae. Four subjects are commonly em- 
braced in the term, viz. death, resurrection, judgment, the end of the world. 

NOTE L, p. 279. 

' The opponents of Ongen among the Greeks and Latins began to insist, 
that not merely the resurrection of the body (corporis) should be taught but 
also carnis (crassae). The older fathers used corpus and caro interchangeably 
as was also done in the older symbols, and intended by the use of these terms 
to denote only that there would be no new creation of a body ; eince both of 

39 



306 NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 

these terms, according to the Heb. usus loquendi, are synonymes,. as when 
we speak in reference to the Lord's Supper, of the corpus and caro Chrwti. 
But since caro implies, according to the same idiom, the associated idea of 
weakness and mortality, it was abandoned by many who wished to use lan- 
guage with more precision, and instead of it, the phrase resurrectio corporis 
was adopted. It was on this account that the Chiliasts insisted so much the 
more urgently upon retaining the terms <?«>| and caro.' Woods s Trans, of 
Knappf H. 633. 

NOTE M, p. 282. 

Lano-e here refers, in a short paragraph which we omit, to some specula- 
tions of Goethe, which may be found in Mrs. Austin's Translation, I. 60. 
The speculations were thrown out in the course of a conversation between 
Goethe and Von Falk, on the day of the funeral of Wieland. The fnends 



were conversing in respect to the actual condition of the departed soul of 
the poet. < The destruction of such high powers,' said Goethe, < is a thing 
that never, and under no circumstances, can even come into question. Na- 
ture is not such a prodigal spendthrift of her capital. Wieiand's soul is one 
of nature's treasures; a perfect jewel.' Goethe then goes on to develop 
his theory, or speculation, for it can be called nothing more, concerning 
monades. < I assume various classes and orders of the primary elements 
all existences, as the germs of all phenomena in nature ; these 1 would call 
souls, since from them proceeds the animation or vivification of the whole. 
Or rather monades .-Let us always stick to that Leibnitzian term ; a better 
can scarcely be found, to express the simplicity of the simplest existence 
Now as experience shows us, some of these monades or germs are so small, 
so insignificant, that they are, at the highest, adapted only to a subordinate 
use and being. Others, again, are strong and powerful. These latter, ac- 
cordingly, draw into their sphere all that approaches them, and transmute it 
into something belonging to themselves; L e. into a human body ,nto a 
plant, an animal, or, to go higher still, into a star. This process they con- 
tinue till the small or larger world, whose completion lies predestined in 
them, at length comes bodily into light." 

NOTE N, p. 285. 

i The apostle shows no fear of death, since he is ready to die, if it be ne- 
cessary Still he is a man. and has not thrown off man's nature so as to 
make us believe that he had a stoical contempt of death ; otherwise, he 
would not have expressed such thoughts as he has in 2 Cor. 1 : 8-11. Here 
however, he seeks to explain in a christian manner that fear of death 
which is fixed in human nature, and also in his nature, while he teaches us 
that there is cause for feeling, not because Christians dread annihri.at.on, or 
that they see o-round for fear in respect to their eternal life, but merely 
from dread of the process of unclothing, in which the soul becomes an ex- 
ile from its home. Therefore we groan, says he, and feel ourselves bur- 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



307 



dened,since we do not desire to be unclothed, but rather to be clothed upon, 
that mortality might be swallowed up of life, that is, we would desire such 
a change, that, without the bitter separation of the soul from the covering 
which now surrounds it, we might, as it were, put on the new garment over 
the old, and then the living principle of life in the new, would destroy the 
principle of corruption in the old ; we would become immortal without pass- 
ing the gates of death. In respect to the possibility or impossibility of it, 
he says nothing ; still less does he undertake to point out the mode or man- 
ner in which the thing might take place. It was enough for him to show 
what that is which the heart, properly speaking, feels, and what is the na- 
ture of the wish which lies at the ground of the universal dread of death,' 
Riickert, Comm. on 2 Cor. 5: 4, p. 149. 



LIFE OF PLATO 

EY 

W. G. TENNEMANN. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



CHAPTER L 

BIRTH AND EDUCATION. 

Plato was descended from an ancient and noble stock. The cel- 
ebrated Codrus, the last king of Attica, was an ancestor of his father. 
His mother, Perictione, derived her descent from Dropides, the bro- 
ther of Solon. 1 Were we to credit the fabulous reports of many 
ancient writers, our philosopher must have owed his existence to 
Apollo, who is said to have introduced himself to Perictione under 
the form of a serpent. 2 The report that Ariston did not cohabit 
with his wife until she had borne Plato, and that this, according to 
the statement of others, was enjoined upon him in a dream, might 
excite the suspicion, that possibly, the whole thing was fabricated, 
for some special object, in the early times of Christianity, if it had 
not been mentioned by the older writers, as Speusippus, Clearchus 
and Anaxilides. These, however, are far from asserting it as an ac- 
tual fact, but, they very readily admit, that it rests on mere rumors 
which were current at Athens. After the birth of Christ, when faith 
in miracles had found a number of apostles, the wonderful story in 
question would not have been doubted by a multitude of writers. 
The superstitious Plutarch speaks with much earnestness in relation 
to it, and affirms that Apollo could have had no reason to have been 
ashamed of his son. 3 Olympiodorus says that Plato gave himself 
out to be the son of Apollo from the fact that he considered himself 
to be, along with the swans, a servant of that god. Here, however, 
Plato has reference to Socrates. 4 Like many similar things, this 

1 Apuleius, Leyden 1623. p. 265. Diogenes Laertius, 111. 1. Olympiodo- 
rus (Life of Plato prefixed to Tauchn. ed. Lips. 1329,) deduces his origin on 
the father's side from Solon, and on the mother's from Codrus, in opposition 
to the express testimony of other writers. [ ; Relative oixeZogj not brother,' 
Boeckh]. 

2 Apul. p 265. Diog. 111. 2. Plutarch, Sympos. VIII. 1. Olympiodorus. 

a Plut. Sympos. VIII. 1. 4 Phaedo, Vol. I. p. 193, Bip. Ed. of Plato, 



312 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



strange report, probably, owes its origin to a mere play of the ima- 
gination, occasion for which was possibly furnished bv some inci- 
dents which might have happened to his mother, but more especial- 
ly from the circumstance, that he was bom on the same day in which 
Apollo saw the light. The birth-day of Plato was the seventh of 
the month Thargelion, which was afterwards observed by the disci- 
ples of Plato as a festival. 1 

Authors are not agreed respecting the year of his birth. I will 
mention the different statements, and by comparing them, seek to 
ascertain which is the most probable. According to the testimony 
of Fhavorinus, 2 certain writers report that he was not born at Athens, 
but on the island jEgina, whither the Athenians, having expelled the 
inhabitants, had sent new colonists, among whom was Ariston, Pla- 
to's father. Now this event occurred in the second year of the Pe- 
loponnesian war, which began in the second year of the eighty- 
seventh Olympiad. According to this account, Plato must have 
been born in the fourth year of the eighty-seventh, or in the first 
year of the eighty-eighth Olympiad. This is the year given by 
Apollodorus and Hermippus. According to Athenaeus, Plato was 
born in the third year of the eighty-seventh Olympiad. The Chron- 
icon of Eusebius names the fourth year, of the eighty-eighth Olym- 
piad, when Stratocles was archon, while the Alexandrian Chronicon 
mentions the first year of the eighty-ninth Olympiad, in the archon- 
ship of Isarchus. Neanthes makes him eighty-four years old (at 
his death) ; hence, if we assume that he died in the first year of the 
one hundred and eighth Olympiad, he must have been born in the 
second year of the eighty-seventh. Diogenes, however, relates that 
the event occurred in the archonship of Amenias, which, according 
to Diodorus, was in the second year of the eighty-seventh Olympiad. 
We have a report from Hermippus, not, it is true, explicit, but from 
which it follows, that Plato died in the eighty-second year of his age, 
in the first year of the one hundred and eighth Olympiad. 

In order that we may draw a consistent conclusion from these 
contradictory statements, we must attend to other facts which have 
been related with more definiteness. Here belongs the year of his 
death. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Plutarch, Diogenes and Athe- 
naeus all state the year of his death to have been the first of the one 
hundred and eighth Olympiad. This reckoning is on the authority 
1 Diog. III. 2. Plut. Sym^TTiTl. 1. ~~ * Dio 2 . III. 3. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



313 



of Hermotimus, who wrote the lives of celebrated philosophers, and 
of the well-known chronologist, Apollodorus, whose testimony is of 
still greater weight. With these we must always count Neanthes, 
who composed the lives of distinguished men with much industry. 
If Neanthes had deviated from other writers in respect to the year 
of Plato's death, Diogenes would not certainly have forgotten to men- 
tion it. Eusebius deserves no attention, when in opposition to the 
definite statement of these old and somewhat reputable writers, he 
names the fourth year of the same Olympiad. If now there was as 
much certainty in relation to the length of his life, then we could 
have the adequate data to fix upon the year of his birth. Here, 
however, there are three varying opinions. According to Neanthes, 
Plato was eighty-four years old ; l according to Hermotimus, Cicero, 
Seneca, Lucian and Censorinus, eighty-one years; 2 and, finally, 
according to Valerius Maximus and Athenaeus, eighty-two years. 3 
Though the last statement cannot be maintained against the con- 
clusions of the other writers, still it rests, perhaps, on common 
grounds with them. Since Plato is said to have died on the very 
anniversary day of his birth, his death may be set down as well in 
the departing as in the commencing year, and we have the right 
equally to say that he died in the eighty-first, or in the eighty-se- 
cond year of his age. We have now only to consider the two re- 
ports respecting the years eighty-one and eighty-four. 

According to the testimony of Plutarch and Dionysiusof Halicar- 
nassus, Isocrates was born in the second year of the eighty-sixth 
Olympiad, seven years earlier than Plato, and five years before the 
Pelopennesian war. 4 Diogenes Laertius fixes the intermediate time 
between Isocrates and Plato at only six years, probably in accord- 
ance with the reckoning of Neanthes. 5 Were we to follow his ar- 
rangement, Plato would have been born in the second year of the 
Pelopennesian war, or in the fourth year of the eighty-seventh 
Olympiad. Now when we reckon backwards from this year to the 

5 Diog. III. 3. 

2 Diog. III. 2. Cic. De Senect. c 5. Seneca Epist. 58. Lucianus de 
Longaevis, Censorinus de Die Natali, c. 15. 

3 Val. Maxim. VIII. 7. Athenaeus, V. 18. 

4 Flat. Vit., Isocrates, Dionysius Judicio de Isocrate. 

5 Diog 111. 3. 

40 



314 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



second year of the eighty-sixth Olympiad, we have only six years ; 
and from the beginning of the Pelopennesian war only four years, 
consequently we must include both the year preceding these, and 
the year following. Herein, indeed, lies the only doubt, which has 
not as yet been removed. This reckoning leads us back to the 
fourth year of the eighty-seventh, or to the first of the eighty-eighth 
Olympiad as the year of Plato's birth, which I have the best rea- 
son to regard as the most probable, inasmuch as we always return 
to the same point, though we go out on different paths. 

To the preceding grounds, on which we form a conclusion, we 
we will add a new one. Plato lived as a pupil with Socrates eight 
years, namely, from his twentieth to his twenty-eighth year. 1 
Brucker here finds a singular difficulty. ' Plato,' says he, 1 could 
have been only eight and twenty in the first year of the ninety-fifth 
Olympiad, in which Socrates drank the poisoned cup, but he must 
have been at least thirty years old, for he was at that time senator, 
to which office no one was eligible before his thirtieth year.' 2 I 
cannot say from what source Brucker learned that Plato was a sena- 
tor, for I do not find the least proof of it. If we now go back from 
the year of the death of Socrates twenty-eight years, the fourth year 
of the eighty-seventh or the first year of the eighty-eighth Olym- 
piad will be fixed upon as the year of the birth of Plato. In the 
mean time we adopt this reckoning, until learned men, from better 
grounds, shall have decided upon another. 3 

Of his father and mother but a few circumstances are known. 
His father died very early, before Plato had commenced his philo- 
sophical course, probably before the 28th year of his age. 4 But his 
mother was living even after he had come into the court of Diony- 
sius the younger. 5 His brothers were Adimantus and Glauco ; he 

1 Diogenes 111. 5, 6. Suidas Platone, anoyvovs rot'rcov icpikoGOcpr/as 
TtttQa JSojuqdrsi inl I'rrj y.. A more correct reading is probably «ri ttei x. 

2 Historia Critica Philosophiae. Lips. 1745, J. 632, Note. 

3 [Professor Boeckh of Berlin, as we learn from MS. Notes of his Lec- 
tures on Plato, loaned us by a friend, places his birth 429 B. C, on the 7th 
of Thargelion, 21st or 22d of March. According to Ritter, Geschichte der 
Phil. 11. 152, Berlin, 1830, Plato was born at iEgina or Athens, in the 87th 
or 88th Olympiad, at the time of the death of Pericles. — Tr.] 

4 Plut. 7iSQi (f iXoaroqyiag II. Frankf. 1620, 496. 
* Plat. Epist. XL 174. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



315 



had a sister called Potona. Plutarch puts down Antipho as a younger 
brother. 1 But he was only a half brother, on the mother's side, 
since Perictione, after the death of Ariston, married Pyrilampes, as 
we should conclude from the reference below. 2 We now turn back 
to Plato himself. 

Nature had furnished him with many qualifications and accom- 
plishments, which placed him in a condition to act the part of a 
great man. His bodily frame was very firm and strong, but per- 
haps not altogether symmetrical, the due proportion of parts of his 
body to the whole not being preserved. According to the account 
of some writers, either his breast, his shoulders or his forehead 
were unusually broad. Hence was derived his name Ulaxtov, for he 
was first called Aristocles, from his grandfather. 3 Plutarch also re- 
lates that he was hump-backed, but this, perhaps, was not a natural 
defect ; it may have first appeared late in life as a result of his severe 
studies. 4 

But though his bodily frame was not entirely symmetrical, yet it 
could not have disfigured him ; rather he was so constituted, that 
from his external appearance, particularly from his countenance, we 
should have attributed to him a superior mind. So at least Socrates 
judged, who, with his wonderfully sharp eye, was wont to ascertain 
the inner, hidden disposition, and here at least he did not deceive 
himself. 5 A strong susceptibility and excitableness, a fiery imagina- 
tion, wit and keenness, a high degree of understanding and reason 
were the gifts which Plato had received from nature. And there 
were wanting neither education, fortunate circumstances, nor his 
own activity, by which he might cultivate these talents, bring them 
into action and give them a determinate direction. 

His father contributed all which, according to the circumstances of 
the times, was necessary to give to his son a good education. Plato 
first learned grammar, that is, reading and writing, from Dionysius. 
In gymnastics, Ariston was his teacher. He excelled so much in 

1 Diogenes III. 4. Apuleius 366. Plutarch, tvsqi (filadelcplag 484. 

2 Parmenides X. 73. 

3 Diogenes III. 4. Seneca Epist. 58. Apuleius 365. 

4 Plut. de Audiend. Poet. 26, 53. 

6 Apuleius p. 366, quera ubi adspexit ille, ingeniumque intimum de exte- 
riore conspicatus est facie. 



316 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



these physical exercises, that he went into a public contest at the 
Isthmian and Pythian games. 1 He studied painting and music un- 
der the tuition of Draco, a scholar of the well-known Damon, and 
Metellus of Agrigentum. 2 But his favorite employment, in his 
youthful years, was poetry, since this furnished abundant nourish- 
ment to his spirit, struggling upward, and which in itself, as well as 
in the prospect of the honor and renown for which he earnestly 
strove, promised such manifold pleasures. After he had made use 
of the instruction of the most distinguished teachers of poetry, in 
all its forms, he proceeded to make an essay himself in heroic verse. 
But when he perceived its ordinary character, and the great differ- 
ence between it and the masterpieces of Homer, he threw it into 
the fire. His love of distinction, which was his ruling passion, did 
not allow him to regard anyone as superior to himself, and his feel- 
ings taught him that it was impossible that he should excel Homer. 3 
His efforts in lyric poetry did not result any more auspiciously, or 
at least, they failed to give him satisfaction. Finally he sought his 
fortune in dramatic poetry. He elaborated four pieces, or a Tet- 
ralogy, with which he might wrest the prize from other poets. But 
an accident induced him to quit forever this career, to which he was 
not probably destined. A short time before the feast of Bacchus, 
when his first piece was to be brought upon the stage, he became 
acquainted with Socrates, who discovered in him talents which would 
fit him for a large sphere of action. To his desire for honor, Soc- 
rates gave an entirely different direction, as we shall show further 
on. 4 But though he abandoned his poetic attempts, yet he still at- 
tended to the reading of the poets, particularly of Homer, Aristo- 
phanes and Sophron, as his favorite occupation. 5 He derived from 
them in part, the dramatic arrangement of his dialogues. 

It was then customary, for young men who were preparing for 
the polite world, or to distinguish themselves in any manner, to at- 
tend a course in philosophy. Plato had heard the instructions of 
Cratylus, a disciple of the school of Heraclitus. 6 When Diogenes, 

1 Diog. 111.4. Apul. 366, Olymp.iod. 

2 Diog. 111. 5. Apul. 3G6. Plutarch de Musica. 3 iElian 11. 30. 

4 iElian 11. 3. Diogen. III. 5, Olympibd. Apul. SCO. 5 Olympiod. 

6 Aristoteles Metaphysic. 1. 6 i-nvtov re }'vq avyyevo^lvog ttqojtov Kqo.- 
tvXoj xa.1 rdig HyaxXsiTtlois §o£aig. Apuleius 306, et antea quidem Herac- 
Jiti secta fuerat hubutus. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



317 



Olympiodorus and other writers assert that he did not become a 
scholar of Cratylus till after the death of Socrates, they give less 
credit to Aristotle and Apuleius than they deserve ; the former a 
contemporary, the latter drawing his information from Speusippus. 1 
There are yet other grounds which take away all probability from 
the information of Diogenes, who has not given his authorities. In 
the first place, it is not credible, that Plato, up to his twentieth year, 
had not studied philosophy, which was then the universal practice of 
high-born youth. Philosophers in great numbers, and of all kinds, 
then exercised their profession at Athens. Ariston, as it appears 
from all the authorities, spared no expense which could promote the 
education of Piato. In the second place, provided Plato did not at- 
tend upon the instructions of Cratylus till after the death of Socrates, 
it would appear, even according to the supposition of Diogenes, that 
he must have attended immediately after that event. But Diogenes 
directly thereupon relates, out of Hermodorus, that Plato, in the 
twenty-eighth year of his age, repaired to Euclid at Megara. And 
how could he have still remained at Athens, when with the other 
disciple of Socrates he left Athens for the very reason, that he fear- 
ed the same fate at the hands of the Athenians which Socrates had 
suffered ? 

Diogenes says further, that Plato, in addition to Cratylus, attended 
upon Hermogenes, an Eleatic philosopher, and that too after his at- 
tendance upon Socrates. Now as no early writer alludes to this 
Hermogenes, not even in a single word, I am inclined to believe, 
that he is the same one who preceded Cratylus as a teacher, and was 
the son of Hipponicus, an Athenian. Since Cratylus was a teacher 
of Plato, this circumstance, or some other authority misled Diogenes, 
and caused him to confound Cratylus and Hermogenes together, and 
thus while Cratylus passed for a Heraclitic philosopher, Hermoge- 
nes, with like inconsiderateness, was regarded as an Eleatic. 

But it is very probable, that Plato, in his youth, had become ac- 
quainted with the several kinds of philosophy, which then found dis- 
ciples. For opportunity could not have been wanting in Athens, 

1 Diog. III. 6., Olymp., Anonymous writer in the JBibliothek der alten 
Litteratur. [" Aristotle says Plato was connected with Cratylus from his 
youth, iMeta. 1. 6. Ast improperly doubts this. His first philosophy was 
Ionic. That Cratylus, in his dotage, is represented unfavorably, is owing to 
the fact that Plato now despised that philosophy." Boeckh. Tr.] 



318 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



which was a favorite rendezvous for all the so-called philosophers, 
sophists and rhetoricians. So far it is certain, at least, that Plato 
had an indescribable desire for knowledge, and spared no labor nor 
pains, in order to amass information. 1 Apuleius likewise records, 
that he was very modest, which is also corroborated by Heraclides. 2 
While a youth, he was so serious and collected, that he was never 
guilty of any irregularities, or, as some say, he never laughed 
throughout his life. 3 It is scarcely worth the pains to animadvert 
upon the extravagancies in these ludicrous fabrications. But it is 
more important to consider what some writers, in opposition to the 
assurance of Speusippus and Heraclides, have asserted, namely, 
that Plato, in his youth, indulged excessively in love, and that he 
went so far even as not to disdain beautiful boys. 4 

This point, which has furnished both the friends and enemies of 
Plato, from the early times, a fine opportunity to show their adroit- 
ness either in attack or defence, has not, in our days, been settled 
with the proper definiteness, and one is thereby always in danger of 
confounding the man with the philosopher, of making an individual, 
aside from his own deserts, a saint or a sinner. To examine the 
grounds assumed by the opponents is all which we can now do. 
The alleged illicit loves of Plato, are inferred from three general 
heads. First, that he sought the intercourse of beautiful youths. 
But this Socrates did, and in itself it is no fault. Secondly, there are 
still extant a few amatory songs concerning maidens and boys which 
breathe something wholly different from lawful love and delicate 
friendship. 5 But it cannot be determined that these sports of a juve- 
nile phantasy originated with Plato. The greater part of them were 
in the Greek Anthology attributed to other authors. Would not Pla- 
to have burnt his verses of this sort with his other poems ? Apulei- 
us asserts, indeed, explicitly, that he spared only these ; but that 

1 Apul. 306. Nam Speusippus domesticis instructus documentis et pueri 
ejus acre in percipiendo ingeniurn et admirandae verecundiae indolem lau- 
dat ; et pubescentis primitias labore atque amore studendi imbutas refert. 

2 Diog. 111. 26. 3 Diog. III. 26, Olymp. 

4 Diog. 111. 34. Athenaeus I. XI. 

5 Diog. III. 35. Athen. 1. XIII. Apul. Apolog. 249. Gellius I. XIX. 
c. II, says, " Some regard Plato as the author of one of these poems, which 
he composed at the time that he wrote tragedies, before he attended upon 
Socrates." 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



319 



writer has no other historical ground for this assertion than their ex- 
istence, which is indeed very slender. Once more, could they be 
charged on him, as the author, they may be regarded as the play of 
a juvenile, ardent imagination, much of which one might consider as 
useful, and according to the Greek ideas of propriety and fitness. 
In mature age, indeed, Plato would not have allowed himself to com- 
pose such poems. Thirdly, Antisthenes, in order to torment Plato, 
prepared a certain dialogue, called Satho, which contained an allu- 
sion to his name, as well as a satire on his excesses in love. 1 But 
whether Plato merited this is not clear. For if he was guilty of pro- 
fligate habits, he, doubtless, did not continue to practise them in ma- 
ture age. 

It were certainly possible, and somewhat in keeping with the 
character of Antisthenes, to revive the remembrance of Plato's youth- 
ful faults, so as to gratify his own pride and inclination for scandal. 
It is not, indeed, my intention to attempt to free Plato from every 
fault ; but the foregoing charges are not sufficient to attach any 
stains to his life ; and to judge from his dispositions and his labors, 
he cannot, as it seems to me, be regarded as a sensualist. 

It may appear to be a remarkable circumstance in the life of Pla- 
to, that, in his struggle for honor and renown, with his talents, and 
in very favorable circumstances, he should not have trod that path 
which was most customary in a republic, — by his deeds and services 
in behalf of his native land, to acquire for himself a glorious name. 
In inclination he was as little wanting as other young men. Had 
he desired to perform an active part in public business, so soon as it 
was in his power, his motives, in taking the common course, might 
have been mere ambition, or a wish to make himself generally useful, 
or the consciousness of duty. 2 Critias, one of the Thirty, a near 
relative, being his uncle on the mother's side, and other friends 
aroused him to the subject, and placed before him things of a stimu- 
lating nature. 3 The requisite qualities and the aptitude we cannot 
deny him. Cicero, at least, believes, that as an orator, he might 

1 Diog. III. 35. Athenaeus 1 II. III. 

2 Epist. 8. XI.. 93, viog iyoj nors wv noXlotg Sj) ravrbv trca&ov • 6]rf&qv,et 
ddtrov ijuavrov ysvoifitjV xvqiog, Irii rd xoivd rtjg nolsujg ev&dg uvat. Epist. 
5. 89. Epist. 9. 165. 

3 Epist. 7. 94, tovtojv dt) nvsg olxtlot rs ovreg xai yvo'jQifioi tn'yyavov 
ifioi • xai Si) xai Ttaqaxdlovv tv&i g ojs Ini nqooyxovra irqdy^ara fii. 



320 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



have played a conspicuous part. 1 But notwithstanding all these for- 
tunate circumstances, notwithstanding all the internal and the exter- 
nal inducements, he kept himself wholly aloof from all public occu- 
pations and services. He never once went into an assembly of the 
people either to impart counsel or to propose measures. 2 For the 
reason of this remarkable fact, we have Plato's own confession. He 
was too considerate ; he weighed everything in cool blood, and did 
not allow himself to be seduced into any rash resolutions. Accord- 
ingly he determined in the first place to observe what rules those 
men who had the helm of State in their hands followed ; and he 
soon found evidence enough to satisfy himself, that they could not 
harmonize with his principles in the least degree. It is probable, 
that through his intercourse with Socrates, his moral sense was so 
developed and educated, that the cruel deeds, the acts of violence 
and the despotic principles of the Thirty rilled his soul with horror, 
and produced the first disinclination to a life of business. For he 
would not adopt their maxims, and he could not follow his own, 
without plunging himself into the most evident hazard of life, and he 
did not see that the common good would receive any advantage from 
such a course. 3 When afterwards the power of the Thirty was an- 
nihilated, and a new reformation of the political system followed, his 
inclination for political life was again somewhat excited. But many 
new scenes which occurred, particularly the iniquitous execution of 
Socrates, gave to his original resolution, namely, to have nothing to 
do with the administration of the State, firmness and permanence ; 
they imparted to his mind a particular direction towards the in- 
vestigation of the fundamental errors and radical deficiencies, not 
only in the Attic Commonwealth, but in other States, and led him to 
reflect on the causes of this evil, and the means of thoroughly remov- 
ing it. 4 

Perhaps another cause had an influence. So strong an inclina- 

1 Cic. Officior. 1. i. 

2 Epist. V. 88. We are not entirely certain, whether he performed mili- 
tary service more than on a single occasion. The information of Diogenes 
III. 8, from Aristoxenus and iElian VII. 14, that he fought at Tanagra, De- 
les and Corinth, cannot be true, for Plato was at that time only a child. 

3 Epist. 5. 89, inti ndvrojv av ydiora^ nad'dnsQ nazQl, ovva^ovXsvsv avrcoj 
si firt fidrtjv /uev xivSvvsi'osiv wsxoy nXitv d 3 ov§sv noitjauv. 

4 Epist. 7. 93, 96. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



321 



tion for a political course of life might have led him to attain it, but 
this was not the only thing which filled his soul. From the zeal 
with which he had struggled to educate his mind and to collect know- 
ledge, we may safely conclude, as it appears to me, that he had en- 
joyed, in a high degree, the pleasures which mental pursuits awaken. 
Hence there must have originated a special interest in certain ob- 
jects, and a particular direction must have been given to his entire 
pursuits, although at first he had determined to educate himself 
merely for a statesman. Thus he did not want other objects and 
motives for labor, and sources of satisfaction, when he had been dis- 
appointed in his original purpose, and the means by which he would 
have effected his object took the place of the object itself. 

These reasons appear to me to be sufficient to account for the 
phenomenon. Brucker thinks that he took no part in the adminis- 
tration of the affairs of the State, because he was not pleased with 
the laws of Draco and Solon ; ] but Brucker has confounded, as it 
seems to me, the effects and operation of the laws, with the reasons 
for them. Of the laws of Draco nothing in particular can be said, 
since they were abolished by Solon. Neither the character of the 
laws, nor the constitution of the State could have impeded Plato's 
struggle for political life, for he could not have once thought of these 
things ; it was the men— their maxims and rules, which first drew 
his attention, and which first awakened in him discontent and indig- 
nation. Now he desired even, that the Athenians should copy the 
morals and dispositions of their ancestors, and that the laws of Solon 
should have their full influence. It was subsequently only, when 
a necessary survey and observation of the moral and political re- 
lations of men had turned his mind to these objects, that he be- 
lieved that the grounds of the manifold existing evils were to be 
found in the constitution of the State, in legislation and education. 2 

This circumstance, besides, exerted great influence on the culti- 
vation of his mind, and in directing him towards philosophy, travel- 
ling, and many other things. Had Plato been fortunate in the attain- 
ment of his objects, or rather had not such sinister maxims and mo- 
tives met him in his path, we should have had, it may be, no Plato 
the philosopher ; his writings, instinct with genius, would not per- 
haps have seen the light. His observant mind would have been 
turned especially towards men in their social relations, their actions, 



1 Hist. Crit. Philoe. I. 648. 

41 



2 Epist. 7. 94. 96. 



322 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



motives and maxims. His judgment would, in that case, have 
sought opportunity to distinguish between what appeared to be cus- 
tomary, and what ought to be. But here we must not forget that the 
education, which his mind received through the intercourse, the 
instruction and the leading of Socrates had the greatest share in 
all these effects, and that the circumstance above referred to must 
have been regarded only in its aspects as an occasion, or a subsidiary 
reason. It is time, however, that we should resume the narration, 
where we just now suspended it. 

Plato had already gone through the course of knowledge which 
young people then customarily pursued, had attended the philoso- 
phical lectures of Cratylus, and probably of several others, and per- 
haps had read the works of the older philosophers, as Xenophanes 
and Parmenides. He had already, as we have seen, made attempts 
in various kinds of poetry, and was even about to bring four drama- 
tic compositions on the stage, when he became acquainted with the 
excellent Socrates, by which means the cultivation of his mind was 
hastened. According to the testimony of most writers, Ariston 
himself led his son, now in his twentieth year, to Socrates, because 
he thought that intercourse with him would be useful to his son. 1 
This occurrence is interwoven with some wonderful circumstances, 
perhaps mere additions, but which still may have some authority. 
The night before, Socrates had the following dream.— A young swan 
flew away from the altar which was consecrated to Love in the aca- 
demy, and alighted on the lap of Socrates, and, finally, rose into the 
air with an enrapturing song. As Socrates was relating this dream 
to his pupils the next morning, Ariston came with his son. The 
sight of the youth, whose external appearance bespoke so much su- 
periority, delighted Socrates. He turned to his pupils and said, 
" There is the swan of the academy." The writers referred to re- 
late this only as a report which was deficient in the proper historical 
grounds. In the mean time, any one who considers the lively ima- 
gination of Socrates and his conviction of the full meaning of dreams, 

1 Apul. 366. Diog. 111. 5. Olymp. iElian narrates in a different manner 
touching the commencement of the acquaintance of the two men, but we 
will not vouch for the truth of his account. Plato was compelled through 
poverty to betake himself to a soldier's life, but when he was in the act of 
buying his accoutrements, accident conducted Socrates to him, who, by his 
first conversation, brought him to another resolution. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



323 



may well enough suppose that some such thing might have happen- 
ed. Of the eight years which Plato passed in intercourse with So- 
crates we know little or nothing, interesting as the detail of all the 
minute circumstances and incidents would be for us, inasmuch as it 
would show us two great men of antiquity, perhaps in an entirely 
new aspect. How many wonderful things might we learn, particu- 
larly in respect to the course of the development and education of 
Plato's mind, could the history of this period of his life contain some- 
thing else than a dry collection of a few fragments. 

Socrates must have greatly rejoiced when a slight acquaintance 
confirmed the judgment which he had formed on the first glance at 
his countenance, and which satisfied his expectation. He discover- 
ed in him all the fine qualities, the expression of which has imparted 
such an interest to his writings ; a lively imagination susceptible of 
everything beautiful, wit and acuteness. He however noticed that 
the spring which set in motion all his powers of mind was nothing 
but ambition. Hence Socrates did not deem it necessary to stir up 
these powers by any excitements ; he gave to them merely a deter- 
minate direction by virtue of that sense of honor, of which he, as a 
good educator, knew how to make a very judicious use. He enno- 
bled this propensity, while he led Plato off from things on which he 
sought to display his brilliancy, and conducted him to those objects 
which elevate us in our own consciousness. 1 As a consequence, 
Plato burned all his dramatic poems, and ever after renounced poetry. 
Light as must have been the task of education in respect to the mind, 
since Plato was quite teachable, and as, it appears to me, in addition 
to his good talents, possessed of great susceptibility for moral studies, 
still, on the other hand, would it be very difficult for Socrates to sat- 
isfy the aspiring and the inquisitive spirit of his pupil. In all his 
conversations, he started questions, raised doubts, and always de- 
manded new reasons, without allowing himself to be satisfied with 
those already given, and thus caused his teacher not a little trouble. 2 
This liveliness and activity of mind could not displease Socrates with 

1 Apul. p. 366. Jamque carminum confidentia elatus, certatorera se profi- 
teri cupiebat, nisi Socrates humilitatem cupidinis ex ejus mentibus expulis- 
setj et verae laudis gloriam in ejus animum inserere curasset. 

2 The anonymous writer of his life in the Bibliothek der alten Litteratur, 
13. /LtSTfi §£ to ttjv 7}&tx?'>v <jjcptl?]d'Tjva.i > zal ngdyuara itaqaayuv avzoj toj 
JSojxqutsi Iv rctis noog avtov tvTSv£eot> 



324 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



his manner of thinking ; so little was this the case, indeed, that Pla* 
to already, in the lifetime of Socrates, wrote dialogues, in which he 
introduced his teacher as the principal person, and carried on dis- 
cussions in a method which was not entirely his own. There are, 
indeed, many writers who believe that they have discovered, that 
Socrates was by no means satisfied with the course of Plato in false- 
ly imputing to him so many things which he had never said. But 
they can adduce no satisfactory grounds, or competent testimony, 
for their conclusion. The single thing to which they appeal can 
prove nothing for them, because it is ambiguous. When Plato 
brought forward his Lysis in the presence of Socrates, the latter ex- 
claimed, as they say, " By Hercules ! how many things does the 
young man falsely report of me !" 1 Now it cannot be determined, 
that Socrates uttered this sentiment with these words and with this 
manner, but it is rather probable, that the report was related in a 
different way. 2 But, allowing that the fact is correctly stated, still 
we cannot infer from it in any manner, a reproof, accusation or even 
disapprobation on the part of Socrates. It were certainly inconsid- 
erateness in Plato to have recited his writings to Socrates, which 
were of such a nature as to have aroused his indignation. The 
words, however, will well bear the meaning, that Socrates, wishing 
to commend the richness and fruitfulness of the young man's mind, 
employed the Attic elegance which very well agreed with that sort 
of irony of which the words of the anonymous biographer contain an 
example. Athenaeus, further, relates an anecdote, which perhaps 
would indicate more dissatisfaction on the part of Socrates than the pre- 
ceding story, if it were not destitute of all historical probability : " So- 
crates is reported to have once said, in the presence of Plato and of 
other pupils, ' I dreamed that thou art become a crow, and hast picked 
my bald head. I predict that thou wilt prate many falsehoods about 
me among the people.' " 3 Were Athenaeus, indeed, in many of his 
anecdotes about the philosophers deserving of particular credit, still, 
that this would be wholly unfounded, we can show by testimony which 

1 Diog. 111. 35, (faoi bi xcd ^ujxydzrjv dttooodvra rov Xvoiv avayivojoy.ov- 
rog nXarojvoc, ^Hqaid^tq, smtiVj wc nolld juov xarsyjsvdsd' 6 vsavi'ay.os. 

2 The anonymous biographer so relates the fact. 1*3. rov yelp Uoiv §td).o- 
yov cvyytypacpcvg, q> Ivixvys teal 6 Jwapar^ t-ipy rolg eraiQOtg avrov . o rog 
6 vsavlag itysi bV?; &iks h xai ogov &lh h xai irqds oig &clei. 

3 Athenaeus Dipnos. edit. Casaub. L. XL 507. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



325 



would be entirely satisfactory to an adversary. It is derived from a 
writer, who was a contemporary, a fellow-pupil of Plato and also 
a rival. Xenophon, who has taken special pains, as Plato did in 
different circumstances, not to mention Plato's name except in a sin- 
gle instance, could not avoid saying once, as it were in passing, that 
Socrates had a very particular regard for Plato. 1 This testimony, or 
rather this hint, removes all subsequent reports, and obtains addi- 
tional weight when we consider the disposition and conduct of Plato 
towards his teacher. 

Plato esteemed and loved Socrates, as was fit in view of the ex- 
cellent character of the latter. But here not only his writings fur- 
nish very many proofs, — in which, with the finest touches, he exhi- 
bits Socrates in accordance with his own mode of thinking, and de- 
fends him with great earnestness from all his unjust charges, — but 
the facts which he adduces corroborate his statements. When he 
was accused, Plato ascended the orator's stand to prove his innocence 
to the judges, though he did not obtain the object of his wish. When 
the clamor of the assembled multitude compelled him to descend, 
ere he had hardly begun to speak, 2 Crito, Critobulus, Apollodorus 
and Plato entreated Socrates to offer to the judges a sum of money 
as a voluntary fine, in order to redeem himself from his cruel sen- 
tence, while they would contribute thirty minae from their own re- 
sources. 3 Although Socrates did not accede to their request, still it 
was a very strong proof of their sincere attachment to him. The 
death of this good man, of this distinguished teacher and dear friend, 
filled Plato's heart with the deepest feeling, partly of grief, partly of 
indignation towards his enemies. 4 Athenaeus here relates an anec- 
dote that is not, perhaps, more credible than the others which he 
has so abundantly collected. When some of the disciples of Socra- 
tes, after his death, were entirely dejected and disheartened, Plato, 
who was in their company, taking a cup, said, that they ought not to 
permit their courage to fail ; he felt himself sufficiently strong to 
continue the school of Socrates, and reached the cup to Apollodo- 

1 Xenoph. Meraor. Soc. 111. 6, JSojxqccttis ds spvovg olv airo) §ux x-qv Xag- 
fjtiSrjV xbv rlavy.ojvo? xal Sid llXaro'jva. 

2 Diog. II. 41, from Justus Tiberius, a very recent writer. That Plato 
defended Socrates in the trial is very possible, Xenoph. Apolog. 

3 Plato, Apolog. 88. Xenoph. Apolog. 

* Phaedo, 265, 267. Epist. 7. 94, 95. Plutarch de Vita Morale L. II. 449. 



326 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



rus. The latter, however, replied with displeasure : ' Bather would 
I drink the poisoned cup of Socrates, than take a cup of wine from 
thee.' 1 Now it might have been true, that Plato himself, while still 
a scholar, formed the determination of establishing his own philoso- 
phical school ; possibly this resolution acquired more strength after 
the death of Socrates ; but the conduct in question does not accord 
with his character, and it has a number of serious difficulties in op- 
position to it. But is it possible that Plato was so unfeeling, that, in 
view of the compassionate sympathies of his fellow-disciples, he 
could think only of gratifying his personal pride ? Stupid must he 
have been in sense and feeling, to imagine that by forwardness in 
assuming the place of Socrates he could mitigate the sorrow of any 
one for the loss of his ever memorable teacher. And would he 
have done this at a time when all were in anxious fear lest they 
should share a fate like that which had befallen their master, and 
when most of them did not consider it prudent to remain at Athens ? 
Had Plato entertained the serious intention of teaching philosophy 
in the place of Socrates, and had circumstances favored it, he would 
have been entirely certain of accomplishing his object, without bring- 
ing on himself the disapprobation of others. 

Before I proceed further, I must say something concerning the 
relation of Plato to the other disciples of Socrates, and in respect 
to their mutual coldness and jealousy. Diogenes and Athenaeus 
have collected a great multitude of such narratives, nearly all of 
which have the object of disclosing, in their nakedness, the infirmi- 
ties and faults of Plato, or rather by collecting them together to put 
his whole character into the shade. I have often been astonished 
when I have seen respectable writers of modern times give credence 
to the word of those authors, repeating pictures which were entire 
caricatures, without investigating the accuracy of the particular linea- 
ments, without examining the sources from which they were derived, 
without presenting the facts under a general point of view, without 
having gone over this historical criticism and separated the false 
from the true : — a manner of proceeding in which there is always 
danger of being unjust towards this or that individual, and of exhi- 
biting the character of persons in a false light. I will, therefore, 
collect together all the facts in connection with a full view of what 
relates to them, examine their correctness, and finally arrange to- 

1 Athenaeus L XI. 507. 



LIFE OF FLATO. 



327 



gethersome investigations which have particular reference to the un- 
friendly relations of the disciples of Socrates. 

The writers referred to accuse Plato of having left traces in his 
conduct towards most of the disciples of Socrates, of envy, jealousy, 
contempt and revenge, which greatly darkened his character. In 
all his writings, Plato mentions Xenophon but once, and not at all in 
the Phaedon and the Apology, where he should have found a place 
in connection with the other pupils of Socrates. Plato declared, for 
the purpose of giving pain to his opponent, that the Cyropaedia was 
a mere romance. Precisely similar was the conduct of Xenophon. 
He mentions Plato's name but once in his writings. When Plato 
had brought out the first two books of his Republic, Xenophon wrote 
his Cyropaedia in order to present an opposite to the Platonic ideal 
of a commonwealth. Their jealousy showed itself in the circum- 
stance that both composed similar works, namely, the Apology of 
Socrates and the Symposium. 1 Of the facts first mentioned, in their 
main points, there is undoubted proof. Thelast named, however, when 
they are not absolutely false are, at least, very doubtful. When 
Plato says that Cyrus, as he himself represents the matter, had 
acquired no particular education, but such as was customary for a 
youth destined to a rough manner of life, that he might become a 
good soldier, and that while he carried on wars through the whole of 
his life, he took very little care of his domestic affairs and of the edu- 
cation of his sons, still we cannot hence conclude that Plato would 
offend Xenophon by this exhibition, supposing even that he had de- 
clared the Cyropaedia to be a mere romance. 2 Another mode of 
exhibition, namely, the refutation of an opponent, does'not betray a 
malicious disposition, and when the name of an opponent is passed 
over, as in this case, with modesty, it is rather an indication of es- 
teem or forbearance. The second allegation, that Xenophon wrote 
his Cyropaedia in opposition to the first two books of the Republic, 
and that in order to present a different ideal of the science of govern- 
ment, has almost nothing in its favor, and every thing against it. 
Now in these first two books, there occurs no ideal of a perfect 
commonwealth, so that Xenophon could not have composed his Cy- 
ropaedia with the design of contending against Plato. In respect 
to their object and plan, both productions could not have been very 

1 Diog. 111. 34—37. Athen. L. XI. 504, 507. Gellius XIV. 3. 

2 De Leg. III. Vol. VH1, 142. 



328 



LIFE OF FLATO. 



diverse one from the other. The similarity of the writing cannot 
furnish the least ground of proof, in which, the Apology excepted, it 
is so slight. In the Symposium, the resemblance lies only in the 
name, while the dissimilarity in the design and execution, is very 
great. There now remains only the simple fact that neither men- 
tions the name of the other, except that Xenophon does so in one 
instance. In the two cases, however, where the silence of Plato 
may be considered as the most remarkable— in the Apology and the 
Phaedon — we cannot find any thing censurable in the course of 
Plato. For in the last named dialogue, he mentions only those fol- 
lowers of Socrates who were with him, or might have been with 
him, on the day of his death, to which number Xenophon did not be- 
long. In the Apology, however, he does not mention his name, be- 
cause it would have done no good at that time to have spoken of 
Xenophon to the Athenians. But that Plato and Xenophon, these 
cases excepted, should have thought as little of each other as if not 
in existence, appears to show not, indeed, hostility, but a certain dis- 
tance and separation, the reasons of which are perhaps not so con- 
cealed but that they may be conjectured. 

That which is censurable in Plato's treatment of Xenophon sprung 
from his jealousy as a writer, which did not always restrain itself 
within due bounds. But the weightiest charge, and that which is most 
prejudicial to Plato's character, has its origin in the narrations of his 
deportment towards iEschines. The conversation which ^Eschines 
had with Socrates in prison, in order to persuade him to flee, Plato, 
either through unkindness towards ^Eschines, or because he lived on 
better terms with Aristippus than with him, puts into the mouth of 
Crito. 1 While Plato was residing in the court of Dionysius, iEschi- 
nes also came there, in order to obtain some relief in his poverty, 
but instead of recommending him to the king, Plato treated him with 
contempt. 2 When both again returned to Athens, Plato was not 
ashamed to deprive his poor fellow pupil of his only scholar, Xeno- 
crates. 3 The first statement rests on the authority of Idomeneus, 
who wrote a book respecting the followers of Socrates : but this writer 
has been often blamed for his want of trustworthiness. 4 His vera- 
city appears in a doubtful light in consequence of this single report. 

i Alhen. XI. 507. Diog. II. 60. III. 36. 2 Diog. III. 36. II. 62. 

3 Athen. XI. 507. 4 Plut. Pericle 157. Demosthenes 853, 856. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



329 



For, according to Xenophon, there were several friends who would 
have secretly carried off Socrates from his confinement, but still 
Crito appears to have acted the principal part in the matter, since 
only a man of respectability and wealth would think of such an en- 
terprise. What party spirit did Plato make himself obnoxious to, 
when he had attributed to another man rather than to iEschines a 
project which was so severely censured by Socrates and rejected ? 
In the second report, Diogenes has not quoted his authority, but men- 
tions it simply as a story. Plutarch, however, comes forward and 
relates exactly the opposite. 1 The third statement Athenaeus mere- 
ly relates, without referring at all to his sources. It is in itself wor- 
thy of little credit, as Athenaeus often compiles without any discri- 
mination. If it is true, that Xenocrates in his early youth attended on 
Plato, that iEschines remained with Dionysius until Dion banished 
him from Sicily, and that after his return to Athens, he did not ven- 
ture publicly to teach philosophy, because Plato and Aristippus had 
already gained general applause, 2 then the report in question, (to 
the prejudice of Plato), must be a naked fabrication. I am tired, 
however, of quoting, in order to confute, statements of this kind, 
which bear the appearance of falsehood on their face, and which 
can be in no manner regarded by respectable writers as having any 
show of credibility. From the specimens already given, we must 
conclude that very little faith can be placed in anecdotes like these. 

Meanwhile, however, as these and all similar reports can be re- 
garded as nothing but fabrications, which the credulous writers of a 
later age eagerly seized upon without any evidence, still we cannot 
believe that they were forged in the absence of all reason. It is, 
indeed, more than probable, that a kind of jealousy or coldness pre- 
vailed among most of the disciples of Socrates, the external mani- 
festations of which were held in check, so long as Socrates lived, 
by their relation to him as pupils, by the universal love towards their 
teacher, and, finally, by the powerful influence of his admonitions, 
but which afterwards broke out so much the more strongly as they 
found no further restraint. This state of things exhibited itself, not 
only in regard to Plato, but also in respect to all those, nearly with- 
out an exception, who distinguished themselves in any manner. 
The reasons, as it appears to me, were the following. The charac- 
ter of their mind and feelings was too widely different to allow us 

1 Plut. de Discrim. Adulat. 67. 2 Diog. IV. 6, II. 63, 64. 

42 



330 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



to think of any close and heartfelt union as practicable. All had 
participated in the society of Socrates, and had been educated by 
him ; but notwithstanding, all remained as they had been ; each one 
used those conversational instructions which most nearly approxi- 
mated to his own method of thinking and system of ideas ; each 
made his own use and application of the rules and instructions 
of Socrates, and thereby educated himself, but not in accordance 
with the teaching of Socrates. 1 In that high esteem and love for 
Socrates, respecting which all his disciples, as it were, emulated 
each other, it was natural that each one should imagine that he him- 
self understood Socrates in the best manner, that he could the most 
correctly exhibit his wisdom and copy his manner of life. Hence 
every one found something to censure in another who exhibited 
any peculiarity in thought and action, while he believed that himself 
alone had rightly copied his teacher. To this selfishness was added 
a peculiar kind of philosophical bigotry which could not endure that 
any one should seek, in addition to what Socrates had attempted, 
other modes and means of making philosophy itself useful. They 
believed that Socrates, who was declared to be the wisest of mor- 
tals, not only by men but by the response of an oracle, must have 
perfected philosophy, and that it would be folly to wish to build any- 
thing else on what he had done. This seems to me to have been 
particularly the case in respect to Plato, who was looked upon as an 
apostate by the Socratic school, who while he was, indeed, satisfied 
with the substantial design of the Socratic philosophy, still, on the 
other hand, strove after a philosophical and systematic acquaintance 
with this philosophy, and, in the mean time, in order to gratify his 
curiosity, travelled into distant lands, came into connection with 
other philosophers and sought nourishment for his spirit from all 
the books which he could obtain. This is the origin of many of the 
charges against Plato which we find in the letters of the Socratics. 
These letters are, indeed, according to the unanimous judgment of 
learned men, not genuine, and, by their ridiculous errors, only be- 
tray the lateness of the age of the authors ; but there still lies in 
them much historical material for argument, which the authors handled 
in a very awkward manner. Hence I conjecture that the same 
thing appears evident in respect to these unfavorable judgments on 
Plato, as from the numerous anecdotes which Diogenes and A the- 
1 Cic. de Oratore III. 16. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



331 



naeus have collected. One circumstance still may be mentioned 
which must have stimulated the zeal of the followers of Socrates, 
namely, that Plato by his mode of philosophizing acquired such an 
extensive fame as seemed to eclipse them. But in regard to Plato, 
neither this nor the other reason could have operated, for he had a 
very liberal mode of thinking, and fortune had raised him above 
jealousy. But the manner of thinking of the one class which would 
not listen to any other except the Socratic philosophy ; the fact that 
the character of another class was so different from his ; the passion 
for imitation in a third being nothing else than to copy Socrates ; per- 
haps also various occurrences fitted to displease him — all these 
things taken together were sufficient to produce a certain distance 
and reserve, but which, so far as one can imagine, had no such in- 
fluence on his conduct as that he put away from him the claims of 
humanity. They manifest themselves in his writings by silence ; 
also when he quotes sentences from them, which he is compelled to 
censure, and if he names them, it is only, (a few persons ex- 
cepted), when he quotes historical facts from Socrates. Still it ap- 
pears as if Cebes and Plato lived on friendly terms. 1 



CHAPTER II. 

FOREIGN TRAVELS. 

After the death of Socrates, Plato, in connection with others of ' 
the Socratic school, made a journey to Megara, and remained some 
time there with Euclid. 2 They thought it not safe for them to stay 
at Athens, and they feared that the revengeful feelings of the ene- 
mies of Socrates might not be appeased by one offering. In Me- 
gara they had not only full freedom and security, but enjoyed also 
the pleasure of being received and entertained in a friendly manner 
by their fellow-disciple. Through some deficiency in the accounts, 
it is uncertain whether all the followers of Socrates, or a part of 
them, or, in other words, who the individuals were who betook them- 



» Epist. 12. 177. 



2 Diog. 111. 6. II. 106, from Hermidorus. 



332 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



selves to Megara, or how long they remained, or what their employ- 
ments were. Brucker says that Plato received instructions in dia- 
lectics from Euclid. 1 But no other writer has any reference to it. 
It is rather probable that both, in their philosophical conversations, 
sought to enrich and to settle their knowledge. Hence Cicero re- 
lates, that the Megarian philosopher drew many of his opinions from 
Plato. 2 It is also uncertain whether Plato returned to Athens from 
Megara, or proceeded on his learned travels. The former, howe- 
ver, is the more probable, as he must have made some arrange- 
ments and preparation for such lengthened travels before commenc- 
ing them. If that were true, which Valerius Maximus has record- 
ed, that at the time that Plato investigated the remarkable objects of 
Egypt, young men had resorted to Athens in crowds in order that 
they might place themselves under his instructions in philosophy, 
then it would follow, not only that the first supposition was certain, 
but, also, that previously to his travels he had founded a school. But 
we cannot determine very much from this account, since Valerius 
has not mentioned his authorities. 

Plato's subsequent travels are indeed well known, but we have 
scarcely any definite information about them, except some frag- 
ments. The occasion, the reasons, and the object of his travels, we 
can conjecture on more probable grounds than we can settle the ex- 
act historical narrative. As he had tasted in his early youth of the 
pleasures which flow from the cultivation and improvement of the 
mind, so he never ceased to collect the materials for enriching his 
knowledge. His mind embraced all the branches of science which 
were then known, and he limited his curiosity to no particular kind 
of object. Hence it could not but happen that Egypt, Italy and 
Sicily must have possessed peculiar charms for him, because those 
countries must have promised important additions to his knowledge, 
partly in consequence of the many remarkable objects and uncom- 
mon natural phenomena, and partly in consequence of the great and 
celebrated men with whom he would there meet. Egypt especially 
was a land which was regarded as the seat of all refinement and 
knowledge, which was contemplated with a kind of astonishment and 

1 Brucker Hist. CriL Philos. V. 1. 611, 633. 

2 Academ. Quaest. IV. 42. Hi quoque niulta a Flatone. 

3 Valer Maxhn. L. VIII. C 7, 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



333 



lofty admiration, which had already returned so many Greeks en- 
riched with the treasures of wisdom, where Orpheus had acquired 
his elevated religious attainments, Solon his political wisdom, and 
Pythagoras his philosophy. The Pythagorean and Eleatic philoso- 
phy were still flourishing in Sicily and Italy, of which, probably, 
Plato had gained out of the books some foretaste, which made him 
eager to acquire a more intimate knowledge by personal intercourse 
with celebrated Pythagoreans. Since all this, as it is in the highest 

gree probable, first inflamed in him the desire for travelling, so 
perhaps there was still another circumstance, which irresistibly im- 
pelled him to put his intention in execution. In consequence of va- 
rious political circumstances, his intention of laboring for the good 
of his native land was frustrated, as we have before shown. At 
this time his desire for observation was directed particularly to the 
subjects of political science, the various forms and constitutions of 
States, the rules of administration and the connection between po- 
litics and morals. He wished to give the greatest compass to his 
information, and to compare the results of it with observations on 
other States. That this was the reason of his travels appears not 
only from a passage in his seventh letter, 1 but from certain narra- 
tions which we shall adduce further on. 

In respect to the order and course of his travels, writers are not 
agreed. According to the testimony of Cicero, with which Valerius 
concurs, he went first to Egypt and then to Italy. 2 Quinctilian 
gives the reverse order, first to Italy, afterwards to Egypt. Apulei- 
us has it thus— Italy, Cyrene, Egypt, Italy ; according to Diogenes, 
Gyrene, Italy, Egypt ; finally, according to the anonymous biogra- 
pher—Egypt, Phoenicia, Sicily. 3 Of these, the most natural, and 
of course the most probable, is the order given by Apuleius, while 
it alone has the advantage of being reconcileable with the other ac- 
counts, since we may conclude, that some persons, by mistake or 
misrecollection, omitted the first journey to Italy ; others, the second. 
The statement of Diogenes has neither advantage. 

Plato then, if we adopt the arrangement above given, went first 
to Italy, or Magna Graecia, to the Pythagoreans, who, at that time, 

1 p. 969. He bad finally convinced himself, he says, that all known 
States had a defective constitution. 

" 2 Cic. De Finib. V. 29, and a fragment in the first book of his Republic. 
3 Apul. 367. Diog. III. 6. Quinci. Instil. J. 19. 



334 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



had acquired a great name, not only by their attainments but also 
by their political sagacity. According to Cicero, Quinctilian and 
Valerius, the particular object of this journey was to enrich his theo- 
retical knowledge ; but, according to Apuleius, it was with more 
particular reference to moral improvement. 1 

I suppose his design was to learn everything worthy of knowing, 
to obtain an insight into political knowledge and into mathematics, 
to make himself acquainted with metaphysics, and to turn all these 
things to the cultivation of his mind and heart. Numerous and 
respectable writers believe, that Plato became formally a scholar 
with the Pythagoreans, and gave himself up as a pupil to be initiated 
into their doctrines ; these writers, however, do not appear to me to 
consider that Plato must have been then at least thirty years old, 
and that with his not insignificant name, he would not probably have 
subjected himself to these formalities. He came perhaps as a 
stranger, who sought acquaintance and intercourse with the learned 
and with political men, and in the character of a lover of all good 
knowledge, in respect to all things which had awakened the interest 
of these persons, might expect and did actually find a friendly recep- 
tion. In these circumstances, he must have entered into a relation 
of equality with the Pythagoreans, which consequently imparted 
mutual benefit in regard to their attainments respectively, whereby 
each gave and received what he could. I can, indeed, adduce no 
certain proof, that this relation, and no other, actually existed be- 
tween them ; but, besides, that it seems to me altogether fitting to 
the character and circumstances of all parties, I can still adduce 
some reasons from the imperfect, extant narrations, which give to 
my conclusion a tolerable degree of probability. Plutarch, in his 
Life of Marcellus, relates that Archytas and Eudoxus first made 
experiments in relation to the laws of mechanics. Not being able 
to solve some difficult problems in geometry by demonstration, they 
attempted to effect it by mechanical contrivances, seeking to bring 
out in an easier manner a posteriori what they could not a priori. 
For example — to two given lines it is required to find a middle pro- 
portional line. In order to solve it, they contrived various drawings 

1 Apul. 1. c. Sed posteaquam Socrates homines reliquit, quaesivit, unde 
proficerer, et ad Pythagorae disciplinam se contulit. Quara etsi ratione dili- 
genti et magnifica instructam videbat, veram tamen continentiam et castita- 
tem magis cupiebat imitari. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



335 



and instruments, whereby in every case the desired middle line 
would be immediately produced. With this Plato was much dissat- 
isfied, and censured them because they annihilated the great pre- 
eminence of geometry, so far as it was independent of experiment. 
The rebuke deterred them from attempting any further mechanical 
performances of the kind. 1 This narrative, so far as it is true, shows 
clearly that Plato had his own, peculiar ideas, that he communica- 
ted them to the Pythagoreans, and that he enjoyed greater conside- 
ration than to permit himself to be set down as a mere scholar. I 
say, if the narrative is correct, which, in my opinion, cannot be cer- 
tainly denied. Plutarch, who in general, and particularly in his bi- 
ographies, is a trustworthy writer, here certainly merits the more 
confidence as his design was not to say anything to the honor of 
Plato. Here comes in also a passage of Plutarch. 2 The incident 
agrees also very well with what we know of the mode of thinking 
of the Attic philosopher. That Archytas employed himself in me- 
chanical contrivances, we learn from other authors. 3 Besides, when 
Plato had returned to Athens from his second Sicilian tour, he re- 
ceived immediately thereupon a second invitation from Dionysius. 
The king regretted that he had allowed Plato to depart without form- 
ing a closer acquaintance with his philosophy, as Archytas and other 
philosophers, who supposed that Dionysius understood the peculiar 
system of Plato, had held learned conversations with him, whereby 
his ignorance had been made manifest. 4 When we bring together 
both these testimonies, I know not who can still hesitate to regard 
the foregoing conclusion as probable, which is all that can be done 
in the want of direct sources of evidence. 

How long Plato remained in Italy cannot be determined, since all 
the accounts relative to it are deficient. But so much is certain, 
that he did not leave this country before he had gained the entire 



1 Plut T. I. 305. Also Symposiac. L. VIII. T. II. 718. 

2 Adversus Colotem. 1126. 

3 Gellius, A. N. X. 12. Hereby, moreover, an historical difficulty is remo- 
ved. Cicero, de Divinat. 11.42, and Diogenes VIII. 86, relate that Eudoxus 
scholar of Plato. Probably he was a scholar in the same sense that Plato 
was a was a scholar of Archytas, and this itself falls to the ground, as do the 
difficulties started by Brucker, Hist. Crit. V. 114. and other writers. 

4 Epist. VII. 123, olg Jiovvalov Tcdvra Stan?]ito6rog oaa dtsvoov'juyv iyo'j. 



336 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



friendship of the principal Pythagoreans, of which they subsequent- 
ly gave most unequivocal proofs. 

From Italy, Plato went to Cyrene, a celebrated Greek colony in 
Africa. It is not certain whether he visited Sicily in passing. Ac- 
cording to Apuleius, the object of this journey was to learn mathe- 
matics of Theodorus. 1 This mathematician, whose fame perhaps 
surpassed his knowledge, had given instruction to the young in 
Athens in his branch of science, but he did not probably stay there 
long, as mathematics had never many charms for the Greeks. 2 Pla- 
to, however, was not an entire stranger to this department of know- 
ledge, as is obvious from what has gone before. Hence, it could 
not have been his design to have commenced the study of mathe- 
matics here, but on the other hand, he probably designed to com- 
plete his knowledge of this subject, or of other things. In conse- 
quence of the negligence of writers we cannot get at the exact truth. 

Celebrated as was his journey to Egypt, very little is known con- 
cerning it with certainty. Euripides and Eudoxus are said to have 
been his companions. 3 But it is not true of the first, for he was not 
living after the ninety-third Olympiad, and thus he died before Socrates. 
As it respects Eudoxus, Brucker and others would show on chrono- 
logical grounds that he could not have accomffcinied Plato on this 
journey. For, he could not have been a pupil of Plato, as the latter 
first began to teach, after his return, about the ninety-third Olympiad. 
This difficulty I have already removed. A remaining circumstance, 
namely, that he received a letter of introduction from Agesilaus to 
king Nectanebo is indeed against the supposition [that Eudoxus ac- 
companied him], for the first and second kings of this name ruled 
later, (if there was no mistake in the name) ; the thing, however, 
appears to have been correct. Strabo heard not only from the 
Egyptians the particular circumstance, but he saw still the chamber 
where both, as it appeared, dwelt. 4 Plutarch reports that Simmias, 
the scholar of Socrates, was his fellow-traveller. 5 

According to some writers, he remained in Egypt thirteen years. 6 
But this statement is obviously false. We will suppose that he en- 

1 Apul. 367. 

2 De Repub. VII. 7th b. 155. De Legib. VII. 8th b. 387-385. 

3 Diog. HI. 6. VIII. 86. 4 Strabo L XVIL ed. Casaub. 806. 
5 Plut. de Uaemonio Socrat. 578. 6 Strabo 1. c. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



337 



tered on his travels immediately on the death of Socrates, which is 
more than we can assume, then he could have employed on his en- 
tire travels not more than about thirteen years. For when he first 
came to Syracuse, he was not far from forty years of age, (some- 
where about the ninety-eighth Olympiad,) and this must have been 
immediately after his return from Egypt. 1 He had, however, spent 
some time with Euclid ; it is likely that he went back to Athens; 
he had visited the Pythagoreans in Italy and Theodorus in Gyrene. 
If to this be added the time which he spent on his journey out and 
homeward, one may easily see that a considerable sum must be sub- 
tracted from the years specified. 

Writers differ very much in assigning the object of this journey. 
Cicero says that he performed it, in order to improve himself in 
arithmetic and astronomy. 2 Valerius Maximus mentions geometry, 
astronomy and an acquaintance with the curiosities of the country ; 3 
Quinctilian says that he wished to gain a knowledge of the secret 
doctrines of the priests ; 4 Pliny, on the other hand, adduces magic ; 5 
Apuleius names astrology and the rites of the priesthood ; 6 accord- 
ing to Pausanias, his design was to attain an understanding of the 
doctrines of the priests respecting the immortality and the transmi- 
gration of souls. 7 Whether Plato had a very definite object before 
his eyes, I will not decide. 8 The wonderful reputation for wisdom 
enjoyed by the Egyptian priests was sufficient of itself to lead him 
to undertake the journey, even if his favorite inclination for becom- 
ing acquainted with political and civil affairs had not tended some- 
what to the same course. Perhaps he might wish to acquire infor- 
mation in respect to all those objects which writers have named 
singly. Possibly he was in quest merely of historical knowledge. 
I know not whether his expectations were realized in relation to the 
priests, as those allege who make Egypt the centre of every kind of 
learning and refinement. In the meantime, I am very much mista- 
ken, if there be not glimpses of the contrary in some passages which 
I will quote from Plato. He yields indeed to the Egyptians and 

1 Epist. 7. 93, 99, 103. Epist. 2. 67. 2 De Finib. V. 29. 

3 VIII. 7. 4 Instit. Orat. t 19. 5 Hist. Nat. XXX. 1. 

G P. 367. Astrologiam et sacerdotum ritus. 7 Pausan. Messeniae. 

8 [" Plato travelled for the same reason that we travel, to learn men and 
things," Boeckh,.] 

43 



338 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



the Syrians the honor of having been first attracted by their serene 
skies to the contemplation of the starry firmament, but he also sub- 
joins that one might rightfully expect, that the Greeks, as in regard 
to everything which they acquired from foreigners, may also have 
perfected this science and improved upon the religious usages of 
the Egyptians. 1 Astronomy and theology are the very sciences on 
which the Egyptians build their greatest fame. Still it appears as 
if Plato would indicate that they were far remote from that degree 
of perfection, which he then allowed himself to believe as attainable. 
In another passage, however, he commends the Egyptians, because 
their young men received instruction in arithmetic ; but, on the 
other hand, he censures them the more emphatically as they attend- 
ed to it through an ignoble participation in the tradesman's spirit, 
remarking in connection upon the impurity of their knowledge and 
the low motives of their actions.' 2 Not less did he disapprove of 
their rough treatment of strangers. 3 

It is, indeed, not to be denied, that he might have very much en- 
riched his attainments on this journey ; but whether the addition was 
anything else but a collection of materials, whether the priests lent 
him the form of his philosophy, whether they themselves had brought 
their knowledge into a philosophical order — these are questions 
which must probably be answered in the negative. This much, at 
least, is certain, and it appears even from the few fragments of liis 
life, that he carried with him into those lands his philosophical spirit 
and his intellectual bias towards certain theoretical and practical 
propositions ; and hence he had previously laid the groundwork of 
his system. 

From Egypt, Plato would have gone to Syria and Persia, in order 
to form an acquaintance with the Chaldeans and Magians, but a war 
which had broken out in the mean time, probably the one waged by 
Artaxerxes with the Egyptians, frustrated his intention. 4 In itself it 
is not improbable, that a journey into Syria and Chaldea — the native 
land of various kinds of knowledge — made a part of Plato's arrange- 
ment. Two writers of no great weight testify, that he went from 
Egypt to Phoenicia, and after holding a conference with some Ma- 

1 Epinomis 9th vol. 265. 266. 

- De Legibus VII. 8th vol. 334. 5th vol. 246. De Repub. IV. 6th vol. 359. 

3 De Legibus XII. 202. 

4 Apul. 367. Diog. L. III. 190. Athenaeus XI. 507. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



339 



gians, returned to Sicily. 1 The testimony of neither of the writers 
is in itself very important. One might, indeed, adduce passages from 
his writings, when he mentions the mercantile spirit as the national 
characteristic of the Phoenicians, as a sufficient proof of the asser- 
tion in question, but he could have obtained this information from 
other persons or from writings. 2 The report is, however, confirm- 
ed by a circumstance which is related in Plutarch. When Plato had 
reached Caria on his return from Egypt, some messengers from De- 
los requested him to expound the meaning of an oracle. The inqui- 
ry had been made, " What ought the Greeks to do in order that they 
might be freed from a general calamity ?" The answer was, that 
they should enlarge the altar of Apollo at Delos, to twice its existing 
size. Through ignorance of mathematics, they had doubled every 
side, so that they had made the whole altar eight times as large. 
Plato pointed out to them their mistake, showed them the only right 
construction, and directed them for further information to Eudoxus 
or Helicon. 3 This is the important discovery of the duplication of 
the cube, which has brought him so great reputation. 



CHAPTER III. 

FIRST RESIDENCE IN SYRACUSE. 

Authors are, indeed, almost unanimous in asserting that Plato, 
after his Egyptian travels, came to Sicily, but in the statement of 
particular circumstances and events, they differ so widely from each 
other, that it is only with the greatest difficulty that we can deter- 
mine what is the most probable. Fortunately, we still have some 
letters of Plato, and also Plutarch's biography of Dion which will 
help us, in some measure, through these labyrinths of contradictory 
accounts and fabulous stories. Plato came to Syracuse, for the first 
time, when he was about forty years of age, in the eighty-ninth 

1 Olympiod. and the anonymous biographer jn the Bibliothek der alten Lit- 
teratur. 14. 

2 De Republica IV. 359. 

3 Plutarch De Socratis Daemonio, VII. 288, Valei\ Maxim, ViL 13, 



340 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



Olympiad, in the reign of Dionysius the Elder. 1 According to the 
statement of all the writers who make mention of this tour, his only- 
object was to see the volcano," 2 but from the seventh letter of Plato, 
it is very evident, that a different object engaged his attention. His 
observations were directed particularly to the inhabitants, their char- 
acter, morals and mode of life, their political regulations and consti- 
tutions. These were probably the points to which he gave special 
attention in the other countries over which he travelled. 3 The in- 
habitants of Syracuse led, at that time, an extremely luxurious and 
sensual life, in which they were followed by the other Sicilians and 
by the people of Lower Italy. The predominant passion for enjoy- 
ment and pleasure had supplanted all other considerations and ob- 
jects of effort from their minds, and allowed no place for noble and 
great ideas. The loss of their freedom, and the oppression of a king 
who had subdued them and who ruled arbitrarily, they endured with 
all possible quietness, because their mind, in its single pursuit after 
pleasure, had lost all its elasticity. Such was the situation of Sicily 
when Plato arrived. Unintentionally, a revolution was brought about, 
which, in a short time, overthrew the power of a king who was re- 
garded as invincible. Plato was acquainted with Dion a near kins- 
man of Dionysius, and an opulent young man. Into him he infused 
an abhorrence of the prevailing excesses, awakened a sense of free- 
dom, and formed his heart and understanding by means of noble 
principles and sentiments. Dion being yet very young and his heart 
uncorrupted, these ideas found an easy entrance ; they strengthened 
and fortified him, and became the rules of his conduct. 4 Conse- 
quently, he began to place a higher estimate on virtue and morality 
than upon all the pleasures and all the luxurious living of the Syra- 
cusans. Hence his hatred of those who acted in accordance with 
despotic principles. Thenceforward, a friendship was developed in 
both Plato and Dion, which ever after brought them into close com- 
munion, and which stood the proof of the hardest trials. Dion, who 
was held in very high esteem by king Dionysius, contrived that the 
latter should form an acquaintance with Plato, and express a wish to 
hear some philosophical remarks from him. Dion probably thought 
that the conversation of Plato would produce in the understanding 
and heart of Dionysius the same effects which himself had experien- 



1 Epist. 7. 93. 2 Epist. 7. 97 seq. 3 Epist. 7. 97. 

* Epist. 7. 98, 99. Plut. Dion, 959. Cic. De Oratore III. 'J4. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



341 



ced, But the attempt failed, and had nearly cost Plato his life. 
The remarks, or the conversation between the two — for writers are 
not agreed in respect to this point, perhaps it was both intermingled 
— were on the subjects of despotic government, the higher laws of 
freedom of action, and that morality, and not selfishness, was the 
supreme rule. 1 Olympiodorus preserves a fragment of the conver- 
sation. Whether it is genuine, I cannot say. 

Dionysius, who would gladly listen to some flattery, asked, " Who, 
in your opinion, is the happiest man ?" 

Plato. " Socrates." 

Dionysius. " In what consists the duty of a king ?" 
Plato. " To make better the citizens." 

Dionysius. " But does it appear a small matter to you when one 
decides a law-suit according to the rules of equity ?" (Here was a 
fit of ambition, for he would have gladly heard himself commended, 
as a just judge.) 

Plato. " This is one of the smaller duties of a king, for good 
judges are like the clothes-menders who repair torn garments." 

Dionysius. " Dost thou not believe, that a king, (a tyrant who has 
placed himself arbitrarily on the throne), is a bold and courageous 
man ?" 

Plato. " The most timid of all, for he is afraid of a barber's 
knife." 2 

These and similar declarations, which were in direct opposition to 
the principles of a tyrant, made a strong impression on Dionysius, 
and he trembled on his throne, while he observed the effects which 
Plato had produced on the many individuals present. To this is to 
be added his vexation, that he had been worsted in the dispute. In 
the first heat of passion, he would almost have punished the boldness 
of the philosopher with death, unless Dion and Aristomenes had to- 
gether restrained him from it. They conceived therefore that Plato 
could no longer stay at Syracuse without hazard. They according- 
ly secured a passage for him in a ship, which was about to carry 
home Polis, a Lacedaemonian ambassador. 3 Dionysius heard of it, 
and bribed Polis either to throw Plato overboard, or if his conscience 
would not allow him to do that, to sell him as a slave. He was ac- 
cordingly sold by the treacherous Polis on the island ^Egina which 



1 Plut. Dion, 959. Diog. III. 19. 2 Olympiod. 

3 According to Olympiodorus. lie was a merchant of JEgina. 



342 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



was then involved in a war with Athens. According to other wri- 
ters, he was sold by the iEginetans. A certain Anniceris from Cy- 
rene redeemed him for twenty or thirty minae. Plato's friends and 
scholars — according to some Dion alone — collected this sum in or- 
der to indemnify Anniceris, who however was so noble-minded, that 
with the money he purchased a garden in the academy and present- 
ed it to the philosopher. 1 Although the particular circumstances are 
not related in the same manner by all the writers, yet it seems to be 
definitely settled, that Plato once lost his liberty. 2 Plato, indeed, 
makes no mention whatever of these events, (which must certainly 
awaken some suspicion), not even when he alludes, though obscure- 
ly, to the misfortunes which happened to him on his first tour. In 
his seventh letter, he says that he had been thrice delivered from 
great peril which had impended over him in Sicily. The first can 
be no other than that which occurred in his earliest travels. 3 — Before 
I proceed further, I must adduce one or two examples of the negli- 
gence with which some of the late writers have compiled their ac- 
counts. Olympiodorus relates, that Plato was sold by Polis, at the 
instigation of Dionysius the Younger. And the wretched compiler 
Tzetzes, makes out that he was sold three times in the same journey. 



CHAPTER IV. 

SCHOOL OF PLATO AT ATHENS. 

When Plato had completed his travels and had reached the 
end of their various dangers and calamities, he returned to Athens 
and began publicly to teach philosophy in the academy. He had 
here a garden from his paternal inheritance, which was purchased 
for five hundred drachmae. 4 If now the story about Anniceris be 

1 Diog. B. III. 19. Plut.gDion. De Tranquillitat. Animi, B. IJ. 417. 

2 To the writers already quoted, we may add Seneca Epist. 74. Macrob. 
Saturn. 1. 11. Diodor. Sicul. XV. 461. ed. Steph. 

3 Epist. 7. 115, naL fioi nsL&so&s Jidg tqlxov oujTTjgog yaqiv. 

4 Apul, 367. Plut. de Exilio, 603, says it was bought for 3000 drachmae. 
But 1 conjecture that the transcriber read y } instead of r. [The drachma is 
reckoned at 8 cents.] 



LIFE OF FLATO. 



343 



true, Plato must have had two gardens in this place, which also a 
passage from Diogenes allows us to conjecture. This writer re- 
marks that Plato taught philosophy first in the academy, but after- 
wards in a garden at Colonus. 1 His academy very soon became 
celebrated and was quite numerously attended by high-born and able 
young men, for he had before, by means of his travels, and proba- 
bly by some publications, acquired a distinguished name. He might 
indeed have taught some persons in philosophy before he founded his 
academy, for he says in a letter to Dionysius, which might have 
been written about the one hundred and fourth Olympiad, that some 
persons for thirty years had reflected on his philosophy. 2 As 
Plato came to Syracuse about the ninety-eighth Olympiad, he could 
not have commenced teaching in the academy till about the ninety- 
ninth Olympiad. The names of his most celebrated disciples are 
known, so that I need not stop to mention them. The regulation of 
his school and his mode of teaching were regarded by ancient wri- 
ters as circumstances so unimportant, that they passed them by al- 
most in silence. By a diligent investigation, I have been able to 
bring together nothing more than some disconnected accounts, which 
I here communicate in the hope that intelligent men may employ 
their talents in uniting these detached fragments into one whole. 

Plato in teaching pursued a method altogether different from Socra- 
tes, inasmuch as his philosophy, in its contents, extent, form and ob- 
ject was very far removed from the Socratic. Socrates wished to 
quicken and develop the moral feeling. This object he could ac- 
complish in no better manner than by his own ability to exert a di- 
rect influence on the hearts of his disciples by means of conversa- 
tions. Plato, on the contrary, rather labored to give his philosophy 
a systematic form, since he considered it proved that all knowledge 
and action must rest on certain grounds which philosophy only could 
establish. The doctrines of Socrates were of common practical 
utility, and designed for universal application ; to them was fitted a pop- 
ular delivery. Plato's philosophy, for the most part, was not intend- 
ed for the public, inasmuch as it contained the scientific grounds of 
theoretical and practical philosophy, whose results Socrates commu- 
nicated in the way of conversation. Hence Socrates was a teacher 
of the people ; while Plato founded a school for those who would 
educate themselves as philosophers. Consequently he could not, as 



Diog 111. 5. 



2 Epist. 2. 72. 



344 



LIFE OF FLATO. 



his teacher had done, go round to the public resorts, but he taught in 
a fixed place. 1 Ought he not, however, at least to have made the 
attempt to bring publicly before the great mass of the people some 
results of his philosophizing, which he regarded as truths generally 
necessary and fitted to the dignity of man ? I find in Themistius 
a few notices that he actually did something of this sort, and that he 
lectured in the Pyraeus on goodness, but that he found no adequate 
encouragement in the mass of people who ran together, and who 
left him also as rapidly as they had collected. 2 Whether this state- 
ment is authentic I cannot say. Plato's establishment very much 
resembled the Pythagorean school ; it had, however, its peculiarities. 
He required of his pupils no oath of secrecy, and he taught before 
no fixed circle, not even in a closed chamber. 3 Every body had 
access. In the mean time, whenever he felt obliged to animadvert 
on various errors in the religion of the people, and to lay down 
many positions which were contrary to the orthodox system, he was 
compelled, in order to avoid the perils with which freedom of thought 
had then so often to contend, either to expound at certain hours his 
esoteric philosophy to his own pupils only, or to communicate it sim- 
ply in a written form. We learn from Aristotle, that he gave such 
a sketch of his esoteric philosophy. 4 

In respect to the method which he pursued in his philosophical 
statements, I find two contrary opinions. Brucker believes that it 
was not different from the one which we find in his writings. Mei- 
ners, on the contrary, maintains that he adopted the manner of the 
sophists. 5 But we here want definite information, so that we cannot 
decide positively respecting it. In the mean time, though Plato 
did not expound his system by means of conversations, but in con- 
nected discourses, still it is not probable that he would declaim ex- 
actly in the manner of the sophists, inasmuch as his design was not 
to excite astonishment, or to make use of persuasion, but to convince 
by arguments. 6 Hence it is to me at least evident, that his method 
was the dialogistic, if not universally , still in certain cases, especially 
in the presence of recently admitted scholars. It was customary 
then to teach philosophy by means of questions and answers, and 
no other mode of instruction was fitted so well to his doctrines re- 

1 Olymp. 2 Orat. XXI. edit. Harduini, 245. 3 Olymp. 

* Aristot. Physic. IV. 2 5 Epist. 2. 70, 72. 6 Epist. 2. 70. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



345 



specting ideas. It seems that Plato always examined new students 
in order to ascertain whether they were furnished with the neces- 
sary qualifications. This examination consisted in his presenting to 
them before every thing else the excellence of philosophy, and also 
the difficulties with which one must struggle, and the exertions which 
he must make, in order to obtain possession of it. If by such 
representations, the desire was not suppressed but rather strengthen- 
ed, if zeal and unquenchable interest gleamed forth, he regarded it 
as a good omen, and believed that such pupils had the talents and 
dispositions to dedicate themselves to philosophy. 1 Perhaps he gave 
to them certain propositions and problems, and allowed them to make 
trial of their powers, so that they might see whether they could 
search out in their own reflection, the necessary arguments and 
proofs. This exertion, this calling to self-reflection was a part of 
the examination to which he subjected new pupils. 2 The study of the 
mathematics was regarded as a preparatory exercise to philosophy, 
as it accustomed the mind to self-knowledge, and, what Plato parti- 
cularly valued, to the use of the pure reason. According to Brucker, 
Plato required of his pupils that they should make themselves per- 
fectly acquainted witlynathematics before they commenced the study 
of philosophy. But though he has brought no definite testimony in 
favor of this conclusion, still every one will think it probable that 
Plato gave instructions to his disciples in this science, since it has 
so intimate a connection with philosophy, and since he was not far 
from being the greatest mathematician of his time. 

The Platonic school had some resemblance to the Pythagorean, 
inasmuch as the improvement of the heart was united with the cul- 
tivation of the understanding. For this purpose, Pythagoras had in- 
troduced a kind of orderly arrangement which required of the mem- 
bers a strict observance of certain rules, and by means of subordi- 
nation and discipline which were inseparably attendant, he exercised 
control over them. Plato did not adopt this regulation, but followed, 
in respect to it, an entirely different maxim. Without giving him- 
self the air and appearance of a king, who is used only to command, 
he sought to educate the moral character of his friends and to 
amend their faults, while by means of arguments, admonitions 
and his own example, he influenced their mode of thinking and ac- 
tion in a way which was consistent with their native rights and per- 

i Epist. 7. I27 r 128. 2 Epist. '2. 70, 

44 



346 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



sonal freedom. By such means, he brought Speusippus back to a 
better mind, who in his youth had trodden the hazardous path of 
dissipation. The sharp reproofs and admonitions of his parents 
had been in vain. But Plato, by gentle conduct and an entirely dif- 
ferent treatment, awakened the feeling of shame and the resolution 
of amendment. 1 



CHAPTER V. 

SECOND RESIDENCE IN SYRACUSE. 

When at length Plato had taught for some years with much repu- 
tation, and had occupied himself in the education of many young 
men, who dedicated themselves partly to the study of philosophy 
and partly to an active life, an event occurred in Sicily which at 
once opened a prospect to anew, though an already long-desired 
sphere of action. When Dionysius the Elder had died, in the se- 
cond year of the one hundred and third Olympiad, and his son Dio- 
nysius the Younger had taken his seat on the throne, Dion believed 
that the fortunate moment had come in which Syracuse and all Si- 
cily could be placed in a desirable situation of rest, security and 
freedom, if only a moral sense and love of wisdom could be awa- 
kened in the young king, and if he might be made to form the resolu-. 
tion of reigning rather as a king having respect to the law, than as a 
mere arbitrary monarch. Plato seemed to Dion to be the only man who, 
by his mind and character, could effect in Dionysius so great and 
important a change. It could not appear to him to be a difficult 
matter to induce Dionysius to invite Plato to his court, since inter- 
course with the greatest philosopher of his time must necessarily ap- 
pear as something quite flattering to a very ambitious young man. 
Dionysius also experienced in fact the want of a careful education, 
wherein he had been wholly neglected by his father, and also a defi- 
ciency in attainments without which a king can be no king, or in- 
deed a very miserable man, and in which deficiency he had had an 

1 PJut. de Discrimine Amici et Adul ?i. tuq} (fdaStlcpias p. 491, 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



347 



example in his father. For these reasons he invited Plato, in a very 
honorable way, to his court. At the same time Dion also wrote a 
letter to Plato in which he omitted no considerations, which could in- 
fluence his mind to accede to the invitation. He presented the 
thing as a service demanded by friendship. Duty to mankind laid 
him under obligation to repair, furnished with counsels and informa- 
tion, to the young ruler ; now the most favorable point of time had 
come in which to realize what he had thought out in respect to the 
best political constitution ; now, without the shedding of blood, and 
in the way of persuasion, without any violent means, a revolution 
could be effected in the mode of government, and all the Sicilians 
could be brought into a method of thinking and acting which would 
harmoniously unite the claims of reason and the necessities of hu- 
man nature. 1 Although the proposal accorded, in the highest de- 
gree, with what Plato was striving to accomplish, inasmuch as in 
part, he desired to advance among men the study of wisdom, and in 
part to realize, as far as possible, his ideal of a State ; still he was in 
so much doubt, that he considered the matter for a long time in va- 
rious aspects before he could come to a decision. He was particu- 
larly solicitous in respect to the youth of Dionysius ; he could pro- 
mise himself no constancy, nothing substantial in his resolutions ; 
he saw the possibility that Dionysius, as it often happens with young 
men, might be quickly led astray by other and contrary pleasures. 
Still, the consideration that Dion had now reached a manly age and 
possessed firmness of character ; the reproach which he had cast on 
himself that he could do nothing but speculate, while he never 
sought by his deeds to make himself useful to men ; and finally the 
conviction that it was his duty to assist his friend Dion in this critical 
emergency, and not to abandon him for the sake of ease or from 
unnecessary doubts, — all these considerations induced him to leave 
his flourishing school and travel to Sicily. 2 These were the real in- 
ducements and motives according to Plato's own confession and the 
testimony of Plutarch ; and I And no reason for considering them as 
false, and the less so since even the remaining writers concur as to 
the main points, and differ only about the subordinate matters. 3 

1 Epist. 7. 99, 100. 

2 Epist. 7. 99, 103. Epist. 3. 77. FluUrch Dion, 962, 963, philosophandum 
esse cum principibus L. II. 779. 

3 Apul. 368. Corn. Nepos in Dione. Diog, III. 21. Olympiod. MUan 
IV. 18. 



348 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



They all say that Plato was invited by Dionysius to his court, but 
they do not agree in respect to the purpose. Apuleius says that 
Plato wished to make himself acquainted with the laws of Sicily. 
It is not improbable that Plato actually did this, but it could not have 
been the reason why Dionysius sent for him. According to Dio- 
genes, Plato went, as it should seem, uninvited, in quest of a place 
where he could realize the ideal of his republic. At the same time, 
this writer subjoins that Plato wished to infuse into Dion and Theo- 
dotes, not without hazard of life, a higher idea of freedom and a 
hatred of despotic power, which in its results hurled Dionysius from 
the throne. The last is true, but the first is false. In relation to this 
no writer says any thing from which Diogenes could have derived 
his story, except Athenaeus, who considers it as very wrong in Plato, 
that, through an unbecoming pride, he sought actually to establish 
his own republic and system of legislation. 1 I think it very proba- 
ble that the whole story originated from a misunderstood passage in 
Plato, in which he says that he had regarded the invitation of Diony- 
sius as a very favorable occurrence, as it might subject to actual 
experiment that which he had conceived in idea respecting govern- 
ment and legislation. 2 This passage must necessarily mislead all 
those who do not raise their conception to his lofty ideal, so that they 
imagine that his remarks concerned the realization of the republic ; 
which was nothing but the medium through which his ideal could 
manifest itself. Finally, Diogenes is here deserving of the less at- 
tention, as he makes himself guilty of an incredible negligence 
throughout the entire narrative, and so much confuses the succession 
of events that he places in the second journey that which happened 
long after in the third. But it is now time that we should narrate 
the consequences of the journey. 

After Plato had committed to Heraclides Ponticus the oversight of 
the academy and the course of instruction, he sailed in company 
with Speusippus to Sicily, 3 and was received by Dionysius in a very 
honorable manner. 4 His arrival was celebrated as a festival in all 
Sicily, while every one promised himself the happiest changes in fa- 
vor of the island. The only circumstance that diminished aught 



1 Athenaeus Lib. XI. 

3 Suidas in Heraclides Epist. 2. 73. 

4 Piin. Hist. N. VII. 30. ^Elian V. 18. 



2 Epist. 7. 101. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



349 



from the general joy was that Plato came from Athens, which not 
long before had devised a plan to overthrow freedom in Sicily. In 
fact the endeavors of Plato and his influence over the mind of Dio- 
nysius were so successful, that the most important consequences 
might be anticipated. Plato began by trying to awaken in Dionysius 
a susceptibility for the pleasure which mental cultivation supplies. 
By means of mathematics he sought to prepare his intellect for phi- 
losophy. This proceeding of Plato gives us a happy proof of his 
sagacity, and of his insight into the character of Dionysius, who 
was not destitute of good capacities, and who was possessed of great 
ambition, though, in the constant intoxication of pleasures, he remain- 
ed uneducated. For this ambition Plato opened innocent scope, 
where the understanding of the king could find sufficient reason and 
motive for improvement, while at the same time Plato could after- 
wards labor the more diligently to improve the heart by the cultivation 
of the reason. Dionysius found very great satisfaction in the study of 
the mathematics, and gave himself to it with a sort of passion. This 
example the whole court followed, and the entire palace was now cov- 
ered with sand. Frugality reigned at the table, and modesty in the 
outward deportment. Dionysius, by his striking course of conduct, 
showed that he perceived how shameful it was for him to be a tyrant 
and a despot. 1 This revolution in the young prince's mode of think- 
ing and of acting was too obvious and considerable to allow the court- 
party, who were contending against Dion, not to mark the danger which 
threatened a sorrowful end to their influence and power. They per- 
ceived that they were too feeble to injure the reputation of Plato and 
Dion, and they saw that it was necessary to place a man at their 
head, who by his eloquence could again restore their sinking cause. 
Such a man was Philistus, (called also Philistides), a celebrated his- 
torian whom Dionysius the Elder had expelled from Sicily. Diony- 
sius allowed himself to be easily persuaded by his courtiers to invite 
this Philistus again to his court. He here took the lead of the oppo- 
sition party, in order to sustain the tottering throne of the tyrant, and 
to be to the son as he had been to the father, a zealous upholder of 
despotism. By means of cabals and tricks, in which he was a mas- 
ter, he brought Dion under the suspicion that in the disguise of pro- 
moting the education of the prince, he was himself striving after the 
throne. Dionysius from the beginning of his reign, seems to have 



Plut. Dion. 963. 



350 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



suspected the dispositions of Dion. This suspicion Plato could not 
remove, though he took much pains to do so. As the result of these 
intrigues Dion was taken off by guile in a ship, and set down on the 
coast of Italy. When this took place Plato had been three months 
at the court. All the friends of Dion were thrown into consternation 
in consequence of this unexpected occurrence, and in the anticipa- 
tion of no happy fate from the suspicious Dionysius. Even a report 
went over Syracuse that Plato was about to be executed as the author 
of all these troubles. The sympathy which the friends of Dion felt 
in his fate, the movements which were on foot in the city, where the 
discontented now hoped for nothing less than an entire revolution, 
appeared to Dionysius to betoken no little danger to himself. In 
order to avert it. he assumed a very friendly air towards Dion's 
friends, particularly Plato, and requested him most earnestly to re- 
main with him. But at the same time he made such arrangements 
as to compel Plato to stay, though he might be unwilling, for he pla- 
ced him in a castle where, without his knowledge, no one could go 
in or out. Reports were immediately current in Syracuse that Pla- 
to and Dionysius were on more intimate terms of friendship than 
ever before. No one would come to any other conclusion, who 
looked merely at external appearances. For Dionysius attached 
himself more and more to the philosopher, and appeared to find in- 
creasing pleasure in his society. He became extremely jealous be- 
cause Plato entertained a better esteem for Dion than for himself, 
and gave him a higher place in his friendship. From this rank Di- 
onysius wished to degrade Dion in order to elevate himself. He 
would gladly have indemnified Plato for this loss with the office of 
first minister if he could have accepted it without prejudice to his 
principles. But Plato maintained steadfastly his honor. He would 
not have hesitated to put Dionysius on an equal footing in re- 
spect to friendship and esteem, if the latter would have elevated his 
character to that of Plato by means of true love and inclination for 
philosophy, or could he have been imbued with a similar mode of 
thinking. This was the object of Plato's journey, and he labored in- 
cessantly, though in vain, to accomplish it. Dionysius, at this period, 
was very reserved and distrustful. Philistus and his faction had in- 
fused into him an inextinguishable suspicion, as though Plato's labors 
were wholly directed to this point, namely, to remove the king's 
solicitude, until in the mean time, Dion could get possession of the 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



351 



government. 1 Plato, at length, earnestly pressed for permission to 
depart. Meanwhile Dionysius was involved in a war, and in conse- 
quence gave his consent the more willingly. Still he compelled 
Plato to promise that he would return so soon as peace should be 
restored. Plato assented to it ; for what had a refusal availed him ? 
but still on the condition that Dion should return with him to his na- 
tive land. 2 Plato then went back to Athens. Speusippus, however, 
remained, as it appears, in Syracuse. 3 Plato had previously estab- 
lished certain relations between Dionysius, Archytas and other Py- 
thagoreans, which had great influence on his subsequent fates. 4 In 
political affairs Plato interfered but very little, especially because he 
foresaw that his proposals would not be carried into effect. There 
was the additional circumstance, that after the banishment of Dion, 
his influence was far less than it had been before, and the opposite 
party were only too much rejoiced to lay to his account all those 
measures and acts of the government, which notwithstanding might 
be wholly at variance with the laws of justice and the maxims^of 
Plato. In this way they accomplished two objects ; they freed them- 
selves from all public reproach, and they turned upon Plato the ha- 
tred of the people. Still Plato, as long as he enjoyed through the 
presence of Dion an unobstructed sphere of action, turned his efforts 
to the improvement of the form of government, and to the supplying 
of its manifest deficiencies. It is probable that he advised Dionysius 
at this time, to reestablish the Greek republics in Sicily, to give them 
good laws and constitutions, so that they might live with one another 
in harmony and friendship, and make common cause against the 
assaults of the Carthaginians. He counselled him also further to 
change the despotic form of government into a regal, that is, into 
such a form as would be itself in subjection to general laws. 5 He 
added some prefaces and introductions to the laws, but which, as he 
says, contained some other additions, from whose hand he knows 
not. 6 

1 Plut. loc. cit. Epist. 7. 112. 

2 Epist. 7. 103-106. Epist. 3. 77, 78. Plut. Dion. 962, 964. 

3 Epist. 2. 73. 4 Epist 7 J23j 125 piut Dion 9( . 5> 
* Epist. 3. 75. 7. 111. e Epist. 3. 76. 



352 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THIRD RESIDENCE IN SYRACUSE. 

When Plato returned to Athens, he found Dion in that city, where 
he had never before met him. Dion here sought to improve his 
character ; and as he had in his manner something gloomy and se- 
vere, Plato advised him to acquire by constant intercourse with 
Speusippus habits of amenity and grace. 1 At this time Plato exhibi- 
ted a chorus to the Athenians in his best manner. 2 Dion bore all the 
necessary expenses, while Plato rejoiced to grant him this opportu- 
nity to secure for himself the good will of the Athenians. 3 In the 
meantime Plato still carried on a correspondence with Dionysius. 
He still cherished the hope that when the war was ended, Dionysius 
would invite Dion back, while he also desired that in the interval 
the king would cherish no unfriendly feelings towards him. Conse- 
quently Plato did everything which was in his power to suppress his 
displeasure. He still retained the hope that he should entirely 
reconcile them with each other, and he held the claim of Dionysius 
to be reasonable so long as he did not become openly faithless to his 
word. 4 As soon as peace was restored in Sicily, Dionysius wrote to 
Plato that he ought now, in conformity with his promise, to come 
again to the Syracusan court, but added that Dion must wait another 
year. Though Dion urged Plato to gratify the desire of the prince, 
for the report was current that Dionysius was now more than ever 
interested in philosophy, still Plato without hesitation refused, as he 
was now becoming old, and Dionysius had not kept his word. 5 In 
the mean time, it mortified the king extremely that he had received 
a negative answer, and he believed that every body would see that 
it was because Plato entertained no good opinion of his character, or 
of conduct towards the philosophers. In order to make good this defi- 
ciency, he invited to his court in an ambitious manner, according to 
the testimony of Plutarch, other philosophers, who had only a mea- 
sure of celebrity, or he enticed them by the good reception which he 
gave them. 6 About this time too Archytas came from Tarentum to 

1 Plut. Dion. 964. 2 A dramatic entertainment- 3 Flut. Dion. 964. 
•* Flut. Dion. 964. 5 Epidt. 7. F22. 3. 76. 6 Flut. Dion. 965 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



353 



Syracuse. All these men, together with other friends of Dion, who 
had obtained some scattered fragments of the Platonic philosophy, 
often engaged with Dionysius in conversation on philosophical sub- 
jects, on the supposition that he was thoroughly initiated into the 
Platonic system. This was very flattering to the king, though he 
suffered not a little shame, as he had betrayed his ignorance before 
the eyes of all. 1 His mortified pride allowed him no rest, until he 
had sought anew every means to prevail on Plato to come once 
more to his court. Here we must remember that it was not so 
much a longing after mental cultivation, as it was pride, which 
thought itself scorned, together with the hope of gaining that preemi- 
nence himself in the friendship of Plato, which Dion had maintained, 
that operated as a motive on Dionysius. From this trait in the cha- 
racter of Dionysius, and also from the weakness which allowed him 
to be controlled by others, the nature of the results of Plato's first and 
second journeys may be perfectly comprehended. 

Dionysius now despatched for the third time a three-rowed galley 
for Plato, with a letter, in which he very earnestly pressed him to 
come to him, and on the subject of the condition respecting Dion, he 
promised to do whatever Plato might desire. At the same time 
came many friends of Dion and of Plato from Sicily, who urged 
him to undertake the journey. Dionysius, in order to leave noth- 
ing untried, had induced Archytas and the other Pythagoreans to 
despatch urgent letters of invitation to Plato. In Athens also no in- 
citement was wanting. All his friends, particularly Dion who had 
received an explicit charge to this effect from his wife and sister, 
urged him to decide in favor of going. Entreaties and urgent re- 
quests from so many quarters, friendship for Dion and the Pythago- 
reans, the desire once more to reconcile Dion and Dionysius, and as 
far as possible to improve the character of the latter,— all these 
things taken together induced him at length to undertake this second 
journey, although he himself predicted no very favorable issue. 

At his coming every patriot in Sicily rejoiced, hoping that he would 
now get the victory over Philistus, and philosophy over despotism. 2 
But the result did not correspond with these general wishes. From 
the first, Plato considered it necessary to put Dionysius to the test, 
in order to determine whether his anxiety for philosophical attain - 



1 Epist. 7. 124. Plut. loc. cit. * Epigt 3 78 7 J24-126, Plut. 1. c, 
3 Plut. 1. c. 

45 



354 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



ments was really as great as it had been represented to him. When, 
however, he had held conversations with the king, and had exhibited 
the difficulties as well as the dignity of the subject, and had stated 
some of the higher positions of the philosophy, Plato became convinced 
at once, that the king's desire for knowledge was not pure and genuine, 
but flowed from pride, ambition and self-love. Hence he would not 
confess his ignorance, but gave himself the airs of one who already 
knew everything. Plato therefore entirely gave up the undertak- 
ing. 1 Bather he now commenced his negotiations in respect to Dion, 
and desired that Dionysius in accordance with his promise would invite 
him again to Sicily and restore to him the free use of his estate. 
But Dionysius gave no heed to the matter ; on the contrary, he for- 
bade the guardians who had been placed over the estate, to take care 
of it, or to transmit the income to Dion in the Peloponnesus, since, 
as Dionysius said, the estate did not belong to Dion, but to his son, 
of whom he himself as his uncle was lawful guardian. Plato, in the 
highest degree displeased and dissatisfied not only with the king but 
with himself and with those who had induced him to undertake this 
journey, made immediate preparations for his departure, as it was 
now the season of summer when the ships sailed away. Dionysius 
indeed was very earnest that he would remain longer, but he adhe- 
red to his determination. The king now thought of other means by 
which he might change his purpose. For he believed that his own 
reputation would suffer, if Plato departed so soon, and his ambition 
was only directed to this point, namely, that the philosopher, who 
was an inmate of his house, should become his special friend, and 
should prefer him to Dion. In respect to the means of effecting this, 
he behaved like a despot, who regards his own will as the highest 
law, and claims to tyrannize over freedom by his arbitrary power. 

1 Epist. 7. 127, 129. Plato says that, as he had understood, Dionysius 
had committed some things to writing as his own discoveries which he had 
heard from others. Yet this was not known to him for certainty. Epist. 7. 
129. From this and the second letter, it is very manifest that Plato had 
communicated to Dionysius some points in his secret philosophy. But it 
was very unpleasant to the philosopher, with his mode of thinking, that Di- 
onysius should make these things publicly known. But wherefore ? Was 
it any sudden fit of a haughty self-love ? According to what he states to us, 
these things were of such a character, that they could not be communicated 
to the public. In another place, I will try to solve this riddle, so far as it is 
possible. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



355 



He thus, for a mere pretence, made new proposals in order to retain 
Plato. Dion was to remain in the Peloponnesus, not as an exile, but as 
a friend who might be permitted to return so soon as it was found to 
be best for the common good ; still with the condition that he would 
undertake nothing hostile to the king. Dion was to promise this, 
and Plato with his friends were to stand sureties. Dion's income 
would be sent to the Peloponnesus or to Athens and be deposited with 
some man whom the parties themselves might propose, so that Dion 
should not have the free use of it, because it was impossible to trust 
him, since he had so large an amount of property in his hands, 
(about one hundred talents). Plato could, if he was pleased with 
the proposition, remain another year and then depart with the money. 
Although this entire arrangement was displeasing to Plato in the 
highest degree, still he felt it necessary for the sake of prudence to 
request a little time for reflection. After mature examination he 
judged it best to assent to the proposal, rather than attempt to de- 
part contrary to the will of the king, since the latter project might 
be rendered wholly impracticable, and thereby Dion's case might be 
rendered still worse. When therefore he made known his deter- 
mination to Dionysius, Plato subjoined that he could not believe that 
Dionysius would treat Dion as a master does his slaves ; that they 
must have Dion's own free explanation of the case, and consequently 
a letter must be written to him. Dionysius was satisfied with this. 
In the mean time, the ships set sail. Immediately thereupon Diony- 
sius stated that he could deliver up to Dion only one half of his pro- 
perty, as the other half belonged to his son. Plato heard this with 
the utmost astonishment, but said nothing in relation to it, further 
than that they must await the answer of Dion. As Dionysius caused 
the effects of Dion to be sold at once, Plato saw that it was but too 
evident that all representations and negotiations would be fruitless, 
and he concluded to observe thereafter a profound silence. During 
this whole time Dionysius retained the philosopher, as it were, in 
imprisonment, — for he dwelt in the castle garden, where no one 
could go in or out without permission. Plato, however, longed for 
freedom. Still, the Sicilians conceived that Dionysius and Plato 
were good friends, for neither disclosed to others their reciprocal re- 
lations, although Dionysius, by means of complaisant treatment and 
caresses, subjected himself to all possible pains to win over the 
philosopher and draw him away from the friendship of Dion, 



356 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



Meanwhile a mutiny occurred among the mercenary soldiers, whose 
pay Dionysius wished to diminish. This could not be quieted, ex- 
cept as Dionysius would grant whatever they desired, and even al- 
low still more. Common rumor made Heraclides, a friend of Dion, 
the author of the trouble ; he was consequently compelled to conceal 
himself or to flee. Another friend of Dion, Theodotes, going to 
Dionysius, requested him to give up all persecution of Heraclides ; 
he believed that Heraclides would appear and defend himself, if he 
could have a safe passport. Dionysius engaged to do so in the pre- 
sence of Plato, but he did not keep his word. Plato made represen- 
tations, but they were contemptuously rejected. Dionysius now be- 
lieved that it was entirely manifest that Plato was fully committed to 
the party of Dion. He then felt compelled to remove him from the 
castle-garden to the Archedemus, since the court ladies performed 
their private sacred rites in the garden. Plato now excited the 
wrath of the king anew on account of his conversation with The- 
odotes. He was therefore directed to reside among the mer- 
cenary soldiers, a situation which proved to be unsafe for him, it 
having been commonly reported that Plato endeavored to persuade 
Dionysius to dismiss his body-guard — a circumstance which might 
probably have happened previously. At length, when Plato heard 
that some soldiers had conspired to murder him, he informed Ar- 
chytas of his critical situation. Archytas, under the pretext of pub- 
lic business, despatched a certain Lamiscus to the king, who obtain- 
ed permission for Plato to depart. Dionysius was still so friendly 
that he paid the expenses of the journey. 1 Plutarch says that Ar- 
chytas himself wrote to Dionysius, and Diogenes has actually intro- 
duced a letter of this tenor into his biography of Archytas. But Plato 
makes no mention of it. 2 On his homeward voyage, Plato landed 
in Elis, at the time of the celebration of the Olympic games. As 
he here met with his friend Dion, he related to him his fortunes and 
the results of his journey. Dion immediately declared that he would 
punish the tyrant for the iniquitous and faithless conduct of which 
he had been guilty towards himself and towards Plato. In such an 
undertaking, however, Plato would take no part, and for various rea- 
sons. He had now, as he said, become too old. Dion had drawn 

1 These statements may be found in Epist. 3. 80—82. 7. 137—148. PJut. 
Dion. 965, 966. 

2 Dion. 966, 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



357 



him, as it were, contrary to his will, into friendship with Dionysius, 
which even now he would respect, especially since Dionysius had 
still so much regard for him that he had not exposed him to the mur- 
derous designs of his enemies ; he would therefore remain wholly 
neutral, so that he might yet be able to effect a reconciliation be- 
tween them. 1 After his return, Plato wrote once more to Diony- 
sius — this is the third of the extant letters — and defended himself 
against various aspersions. 



CHAPTER VII. 

VINDICATION OF PLATO'S CHARACTER. 

I hope my readers will not censure me because I have been some- 
what diffuse in the delineation of these two journies. They are the 
only fragments of his life which are in a degree connected, and they 
are the more precious, as without them we should know almost no- 
thing of his character, deportment and maxims. His abode and his 
conduct at the court of Dionysius, caused him already in his lifetime 
many reproaches and unreasonable censures, which modern literati 
have repeated, and to which they have added others, so that his cha- 
racter has often been placed in an unfavorable light. Without these 
narratives, we should indeed have still had reason for rejecting the 
unfavorable opinions, since his whole life would have presented so 
many refutations of the false or of the merely half-correct stories, 

1 Epist. 7. 149. Plut. Dion. 967. I must here adduce some incorrect 
statements of certain writers, by which we can see, through a few examples, 
how negligent the later writers often are. For instance, Apuleius remarks 
that Plato had actually reconciled Dion and Dionysius and had obtained per- 
mission for Dion to return to Sicily, p 383. After the second journey, 
says Olympiodorus, Dion was plundered of his estate and thrown into pri- 
son. Dionysius promised him his liberty on condition that he would induce 
Plato to come to his court the second time. The same, according to Olym- 
piodorus, was the object of his third visit. Diogenes Laertius, III. 21, 22, 
with his accustomed carelessness, places the hazard of life which Plato in- 
curred, in his second journey. 



358 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



and partial or fugitive opinions which are current; but we 
should have wanted almost entirely the sources and the reasons 
of them, and the surest means for testing them. I will add a few 
only of the reproaches which his censurers have alleged against 
him, and inquire whether they can be actually justified on sure 
grounds. In the first place Plato is blamed for having preferred 
the Syracusan luxuries to frugality and temperance. 1 This accusa- 
tion is contained in a letter whose author is uncertain, and which 
may, on that account, be regarded as unimportant. But it is 
directly contradicted by the character of Plato, and by the fact that 
he, at one time, introduced habits of economy into the court of Dio- 
nysius. 2 Plato, it is further alleged, was not free from a dishonora- 
ble aspiration for the favor of great men, and that this was a princi- 
pal motive for his Sicilian journies. Or perhaps he wished to enrich 
himself by courting princes. 3 But the history of his travels, his 
conduct at the court and his constancy in the friendship of Dion so 
fully refute the first allegation, that I will not say a word further 
about it. The second charge is more plausible, especially if we re- 
gard the thirteenth letter as genuine. In order to judge properly in 
respect to this subject, we must first determine what property Plato 
then possessed, and in what relation he then stood to Dionysius. It 
is probable that the inheritance which he received from his father 
was not great, still it was considerable. After his travels had some- 
what diminished it, the deficiency was made up in the garden given 
him by Dion or Anniceris. We must also here take into the ac- 
count, that Plato possessed the means of living, with his habits of 
frugality and temperance, in an agreeable and independent manner. 
We do not learn that he taught for definite wages, a practice which 
he so severely censures in the sophists. But notwithstanding, we 
may conclude on good grounds that his scholars and friends gave 
him liberty to make use of their property when and as he wished, 
and that he thus did avail himself when it was necessary. 4 We 
may further suppose that Dionysius, who sought out with a kind 

1 Epist. I. Xenophontis. 2 Plat. Dione. 963. 

3 Meiner's Geschichte der Wissenchaften II. 6S3. 

4 Epist. 13. 173. 174. From the latter passage it is evident that Plato, 
with the help of his friends and pupils, took care to provide his female rela- 
tives with dowries, if their fathers or mothers were dead. This was a cus- 
tom among the Athenians. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



359 



of ambition all necessary means by which he could draw Plato to 
his court, would not have omitted to make use of the great wealth 
which he possessed ; and we may conclude with entire safety from 
the passages last quoted that Dionysius actually offered him the un- 
restricted use of his funds. 

It is also settled, if the eighth letter is genuine, which still I do 
not maintain, that the whole sum which he had received from Dio- 
nysius after his second journey amounted to only fifty-six minae, an 
amount, which taken in connection with other sums given him by 
Dionysius, would not prove any low passion for gain on the part of 
Plato. The philosopher looked upon all this money as of no ac- 
count in itself ; but he expended it in part in the works of benevo- 
lence, and in part in expenditures necessary and becoming to one in 
his condition. Here agree very well some anecdotes which Plutarch 
and Diogenes mention, according to which Plato received no pre- 
sent in money from Dionysius, but only some books. 1 If Dionysius 
sometimes lost sight of his friendship to Plato and made him feel the 
arm of despotism, he treated him, as some writers intimate, in no 
other way than as he deserved to be treated, inasmuch as Plato un- 
der the mask of friendship had projected a plan with Dion to de- 
throne Dionysius. But this charge seems to me to be in the highest 
degree unjust. The enemies of Dion and Plato and of their good 
cause, circulated these reports in order to infuse suspicion into the 
king, and to hinder the political reform which they hated on per- 
sonal grounds. 2 Plato in the beginning was always open and can- 
did. He censured cautiously what was worthy of blame ; he re- 
peatedly counselled Dionysius to rule as a king over free subjects, 
and he became more reserved only as he found that the reproaches 
of his adversaries were listened to. He moreover, as soon as it 
was practicable, separated himself from the king. Had his heart been 
capable of such malice, he would certainly have adopted a wholly 
different course, and by flattery, complaisance and a forward man- 
ner would have been sure of Dionysius. When the enmity between 
Dion and Dionysius broke out into open war, he was so grieved that 
he took no part in it, but still endeavored to restore peace. He was 
ever firm and unshaken in his principles, and conducted towards 
Dion and Dionysius in accordance with the same maxims.3 He was 

1 Plut. Dion. 965. Diog. 11. 81. " 2 Epist. 7. 112. 

3 Plut. de Discriraine Amici et Adul. 52. 



360 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



impartial towards both, but he owed the greatest degree of esteem 
to the most worthy. 

With more ground we might perhaps consider that a certain pride 
and ambition were faults in Plato's character. But these passions did 
not have unlimited sway over his heart ; he followed virtue and 
probity, and next to these, he strove to acquire the qualities of a 
cultivated and independent mind in every thing ; but there was still 
conspicuous in all his actions an endeavor to exhibit these qualities 
before the public. He was conscious of possessing these properties 
of intellect and of heart, and he attributed to this consciousness a 
too great importance. It appeared as if there were a certain satis- 
faction with which he called the attention of Dionysius to the repu- 
tation, which he had at that time acquired, and which gave him the 
first rank among all contemporary philosophers ;* not without a 
kind of elation he said of himself, that he alone could be great in his 
own eyes, because he alone acted in accordance with his reason. 2 
He had so high an opinion of his own merits as a writer that he 
maintained that all which he had written was without stain or blemish. 3 
It is possible that the respect, the esteem, the love, and the applause 
which flowed in to him from all quarters, caused this proud self- 
conceit, which must detract very much from the value of his char- 
acter, if it actually belonged to him, as it would appear to have from 
the foregoing reports. But when I think again that our accounts of 
his actual life are so very poor and deficient, it appears to me to be 
somewhat hazardous to decide upon his character from these solitary 
expressions. 

Then it is very probable that considerations and motives existed 
which required him, as it were, to speak of himself in this manner. 
Certain writers imagined that they have found in some of his actions 
and thoughts unequivocal traces of an envious and malicious dispo- 
sition. It is only from this, say they, conceivable that he censures 
the greatest statesmen with so little forbearance ; that he does 
nothing but contradict, and as it were triumph over all the philoso- 
phers who were before him, while he lived on friendly terms with 

} Epist. 2. 67. 2 Epist. 2. 64. 

3 Epist. 7, 582. [It will be recollected that the Letters in which Plato 
reports these things of himself are not regarded by many as genuine. Boeckh, 
however, thinks that the seventh may have been written by Plato. — Tr.] 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



361 



none of his fellow disciples. 1 In respect to his relation to the 
disciples of Socrates, I have already spoken sufficiently. But I can- 
not really conceive how we can derive such a conclusion from any 
actual facts. Freedom of thinking and permission to communicate 
thoughts is an universal right which can be made a crime in no 
man. It is apparent that Plato did nothing else than make use of 
this right when he passed sentence on the actions and opinions of 
the dead. If it is admitted that this may be sometimes too 
harsh, or even unjust, still this is not a fault of his heart but an error 
of his understanding, which is always the case in partial judgments. 
It is true that Plato censures many philosophers who were not living 
and other distinguished men, but not all j he speaks not only of 
what is faulty in them, but of what is good. His liberal mode of 
thinking, his readiness to allow justice to all, and to give to every 
one the merit to which he was entitled, appears especially in his 
opinion respecting the sophists. Though he very often attacked 
their principles and maxims, still he did not deny them the praise of 
being possessed, for the most part, of good abilities and of great 
stores of knowledge. Besides, we must not overlook the circum- 
stance, that when he opposed the opinions of his contemporaries, he 
never names the individual. 

Not less unreasonable is the reproach which has been cast upon 
him by the older writers and recently by Plessing, that from a proud 
selfishness he regarded nothing but his own opinions as the truth ; 
while all other sentiments he looked upon as erroneous ; that from a 
blind attachment to the orthodox system of a religion of mysteries, 
he persecuted all who thought differently, and more particularly 
hated Democritus and the sophists, and treated them in his writings 
in a wholly unjustifiable manner. 2 This accusation stands or falls, 
in part, with the narrative which we find in Diogenes. He relates 
out of Aristoxenus that Plato went so far in hatred to Democritus, 
that he desired to burn all his writings which could be brought with- 
in his reach, and that he would actually have done it, unless Clineas 
and Amyclas, two Pythagoreans, had stated that these writings were 
already in so many hands, that he could not destroy them. For the 



1 Diog. Ill 26. Dionys. Epist. ad Pompeium. Aristides Oratio II. Platon- 
ica. Meiners Geschichte der Wissen. II. 687. 



2 Plessing's Menmonium. II. 435. Diog. 111. 35. 

46 



362 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



same reason Plato makes no mention of Democritus. 1 Aristoxenus 
js indeed in other respects regarded as an accurate and careful 
writer, but I doubt whether he deserves this praise by his Historical 
Reminiscences, 2 in which this report is found, since here he is a 
mere compiler. Still, be that as it may, this narrative appears so 
much like a fable that without other grounds of credibility it must be 
given up. For why should Plato have persecuted Democritus 
with such hatred ? Why moreover burn his writings ? There are 
some which contained far nobler thoughts, for example, those which 
flowed from the pen of Gorgias and Protagoras. 

If Plato had cause to be dissatisfied with Democritus in respect to 
a single point, it must have been because he limited himself merely 
to physics, or to the exposition of natural phenomena from natural 
causes. But it appears from Plato's writings that he did not disap- 
prove of these investigations, but rather commended them in oppo- 
sition to the supernaturalism of that day, and took them into his 
protection in order to remove the reproach that they tended inevitably 
to the denial of a God. But how does this mode of thinking agree 
with the conduct of which the preceding anecdote furnishes an ex- 
ample ? 3 The circumstance that Plato never mentions the name of 
Democritus appears indeed to us to be somewhat strange. Since 
the invention of printing, we can indeed procure nearly all the pro- 
ducts of learned industry. But with the ancients, especially in Plato's 
time, it was certainly a happy fortune which could collect the most 
important productions of the mind. Perhaps we can here discover 
the cause why Plato observes so profound a silence in respect to 
Democritus ; and several other causes may have conspired which 
are entirely unknown to us. I have already remarked that Plato 
was guilty of no injustice in respect to the services and talents of the 
sophists. Plessing cites still another passage in the tenth book of 
the Laws, where Plato fixes the punishment of imprisonment and 
death for those who deny the existence of a God or his moral 
attributes. Without attempting to cast any light on the value or on 
the worthlessness of these expressions, I will content myself with re- 
marking that we can determine only in a slight degree Plato's mode 
of thinking and action, from the expressions which are contained in 
this book, since they embraced an ideal of a political administration 

i Diog. IX. 40. 2 anoixprjuovev/jLata loroqiad. 

3 Socratis Apolog. 42, 54. De Legibus Vll. 8th Vol. 3S7. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



363 



which was never reduced to experiment. And if this be conceded, 
then the judgment of Plessing on the character of Plato, so far as it is 
inferred from this passage, must be regarded as inconsiderate, since 
it will be found on more accurate examination that Plato does not 
consider the denial of the divine existence as an immorality to be 
punished. Finally, how a man like Plessing, who had not only read 
but studied the writings of Plato, could err so widely in his judgment 
as to attribute to this philosopher a bigotted mode of thinking and a 
blind attachment to the religion of his country, appears to me to be 
nothing less than a riddle, while one may find in almost all Plato's 
writings undeniable proofs that he had a very clear insight into the 
errors of his religion, and that he defended with true, heartfelt 
earnestness, not the entire religion as it was at that time, but the 
religion purified from its fundamental errors. He had no attach- 
ment to those particular forms of religion by which it was disfigured ; 
but the essential truths of it, (without which its existence is not con- 
ceivable,) and its connection with morals, he rightly judged to be 
attended with such conviction as must make it dear and valuable to 
every man of sound mind and heart. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

LAST DAYS OF PLATO. 

It is a striking circumstance, that Socrates and Plato, though both 
sought with the greatest zeal to supplant religious prejudices by 
means of a more worthy mode of representation, should, notwith- 
standing, have met with so different a fate — Socrates, in consequence 
of his noble design, compelled to drink the cup of poison — Plato 
dying in peace on his bed. I know indeed, that it may be said, in 
order to account for this difference, that the enemies of Socrates in 
fact made use of religion only as a cloak to give to their persecution 
a color of justice. But I doubt whether this ground can be regarded 
as sufficient. For if Plato, no less than Socrates, was in a situation 
to have had enemies ; if even he also by so many free remarks on 
politics, religious and moral errors and prejudices, must have ex- 



364 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



cited against himself the censure, the hatred and the persecuting 
spirit of multitudes of men of all classes, then it must still ever re- 
main a problem why the offended self-love of the Athenians did not 
use the same artifice (in respect to Plato), by covering itself under 
the cloak of piety. I will here hazard a few conjectures which may 
make this phenomenon in some measure intelligible. The con- 
sequences that followed when Socrates had attacked these prejudices 
in accordance with his convictions, and when the enemies of the 
truth had satiated their vengeance upon him, were such that Plato 
must have advised on the one hand prudence and caution, and on 
the other forbearance and moderation. The opponents of the new 
investigations could now learn from experience, that their violent 
measures, however they might bring their designs to a prosper- 
ous issue, still tended to nothing else, than to expose the authors to 
the reproach and abhorence of their contemporaries, as well as of 
succeeding generations. All which they could gain was but for a 
moment, but what they hazarded was far more. While these con- 
siderations must have in fact limited the intolerance and the perse- 
cuting spirit, (that they had an influence I conclude from the 
fact that Socrates was the last bloody victim), they must certainly 
have been in a great degree the fruit of the influence which Plato, 
Xenophon, and other disciples of Socrates exerted by their writings 
on their contemporaries. Although by these means violent assaults 
on freedom of thought were either driven back or overpowered, still 
no author who wished to write the truth could free himself from all 
anxiety ; he must yet continually dread lest the blind and hoodwinked 
religious zealots would be again let loose against him with the more 
violence, in proportion as they had been held in a kind of check. 
He had the greater reason to be on his guard, since neither the force 
[of the opposition], nor those things which would serve as a counter- 
poise to it could be mathematically determined. These observations 
taught him a certain species of foresight and caution so as not to 
provoke his opponents. This, it seems to me, is a second reason 
which is very obvious in the writings of Plato. On the one hand, 
he felt the necessity and the right of speaking the truth, and of 
clearly exposing the errors which his reason pointed out to him ; but, 
on the other hand, he discovered those dangers which were insepa- 
rably connected, and thus he trod a middle path, so that he could do 
enough to satisfy the claims of reason, without wantonly exposing 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



365 



himself to danger. Among the means by which he sought to secure 
his person against attempts of this kind, I give the first place to the 
style of his writings. All those things whereby he would bring 
himself into danger, are written in a dialogue form. Under this 
safeguard, he could write very freely and fearlessly, since it could 
not be regarded as his own peculiar style of reasoning, but rather an 
exhibition of the thoughts of others. Besides, he attacked in a special 
manner those religious errors only which could not consist with the 
laws of morality, whereby he made it appear as though he admitted 
the popular religious system as orthodox, and would suppress only 
some false principles. He speaks with much warmth and freedom 
on this point. The remaining attacks on the foundations of the 
popular faith, on the polytheism, he knew how to veil so adroitly 
under the form of irony, that they could not easily occasion him any 
inconvenience. Thus ridicule w r as concealed when he said : " So 
far as relates to the twelve gods, we must believe every thing which 
the poets say concerning them, be it ever so inconceivable, since 
they as sons of those gods must know best." 1 Still, a remark must 
be here made. In those dialogues which Plato wrote in his old age, 
one may easily see that there is more freedom in the language, 
more spirit and candor in the assault upon errors, than we can dis- 
cover in his earlier writings. This may be owing either to his having 
reached a more free and comprehensive point of view, or because 
declining age had made him indifferent to danger, or finally be- 
cause he imagined that the weakness of his enemies was greater. 

Plato probably observed the external rites of religion in the same 
manner as Socrates and other wise men had done, although his 
mode of thinking on some points was very different. Socrates, for 
example, had not freed himself from all superstitions, but still was 
strongly in the faith of soothsaying, dreams and divine responses. 
On the other hand, we find no traces of this in the life of Plato, 
though a few times in his writings, he seems to revert to the con- 
sideration of this subject. When Xenophon was about to engage in 
the service of Cyrus, Socrates sent him to make inquiry of the oracle 
at Delphi. Plato, on the contrary, made no such inquiry, but 
trusted to his own judgment, when he had received an invitation to 
the court of Dionysius. This was certainly not a less important and 
difficult emergency for him than the other was for Xenophon. He 
1 Timaeus, Vol. IX. 324, 



366 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



believed that he heard no divine voice, but perceived a call addres- 
sed merely to his reason, although he was possessed of a far more 
ardent imagination than Xenophon. 

Plato was employed by many kings and commonwealths as a phi- 
losopher and statesman ; and was commissioned by several of them 
to compile systems of laws ; for example, by the inhabitants of Cy- 
rene, Laodamas (perhaps king of the Thasians), by the Arcadians 
and Thebans. 1 With Perdiccas, king of the Macedonians, he carri- 
ed on a correspondence, and sent to him his scholar Euphraeus, to 
tender him good advice. 2 According to Plutarch, he projected laws 
for the Sicilians, after the death of Dionysius, and also for the Cre- 
tans for the use of their colony Magnesia, which were said to have 
been actually adopted. He sent Phormio to the Eleans and Mene- 
demus to the Pyrrhaeans 3 in order to give a settled form to their com- 
monwealths. But so far as it respects laws for the Sicilians and 
Cretans, I very much fear that Plutarch has fallen into an error, or 
has not expressed himself with sufficient precision. An Introduction 
to his book of Laws, Plato had actually committed to writing for Di- 
onysius, as we have before related. After the death of Dicn, he 
had communicated proposals to the Sicilians, so that they might be 
able to give to their republic a fixed constitution, as we still find it in 
the Seventh and Eighth Letters. But it remains equally uncertain 
whether his proposals were accepted, as whether he composed the 
still extant laws in accordance with the desires of the Cretans, or 
from the impulse of his own mind. 

This remarkable man died in the first year of the 108th Olympiad, 
on the first day of his eighty-second year. Although his health had 
suffered considerably by his many journies, exposures and labors, 
still by his exemplary temperance and government of his passions, 
he prolonged his life to this good old age. 4 

To this is to be attributed in part the happy circumstance that his 
mind was awake and active to the last moment. 5 After his death 
there was found on a wax tablet the beginning of his Republic, in 
which his anxiety to file and amend the expression was manifest. 6 

1 Diog. III. 23. Julian. V. II. 42. XII. 30. Epist. XI. Plut. TTQog i)y^6va 
aTralSsvTOV. 

2 Epist. 5. 87. 3 P ] uti Advers. Coloten. 1126. 

4 Seneca Epist. 58. 5 Cic. De Senect, c. 5. Seneca Epist. 58. 

6 Dionysius izsqI ovv&eotojg edit. Hudson. 55. Quinct. VIII. 6. 



LIFE OF PLATO. 



367 



Hence we may conclude, that this composition was his favorite, if it 
had not been already evident from his pains and from his style, that 
he must have labored upon it with particular interest. Death came 
upon him like a soft sleep, when he was present at a marriage feast. 1 
His body was buried in the Ceramicus, 2 not far from the academy. 
The Athenians erected for him in the same place a monument 
with an inscription, which commemorated his services and the esti- 
mation in which he was held by his contemporaries. Pausanias 
found this monument still existing in the second century. A statue 
was erected for him by king Mithridates. 3 

1 Diog. III. 2. 

2 [A public walk at Athens, and also a place where those were buried who 
were killed in defence of their country. — Tr.] 

3 Diog. III. 40. 25. Fausan. Lib. I. 76. Edit. Kuhn. 



PLATO AND HIS BIOGRAPHERS. 



47 



SKETCH OF 



THE BIOGRAPHERS OF PLATO 

AND OF THE 

COMMENTATORS UPON HIS WRITINGS. 



The object of this sketch is to combine some scattered notices il 
lustrative of the preceding Article, which we had. originally intended 
to insert in the form of notes. An exhibition of the literature of this 
subject, brought down to the present time, may not be without inter- 
est to our readers. We are enabled to do this the more satisfacto- 
rily from having in our possession, through the courtesy of a friend, 
brief MS. Notes of the Lectures on Plato which are delivered at 
Berlin by the eminent professor and classical scholar, Augustus 
Boeckh. 

Diogenes Laertius, Apuieius, Olympiodorus and Suidas in his 
Lexicon have preserved many particulars of Plato's life. They had 
before them the biographies which were written by contemporaries 
of the philosopher. There is no reason, therefore, to doubt the au- 
thority of those biographies which we possess. They must contain 
substantial truth, though there are many conflicting statements in 
respect to particular incidents. Among the early writers is Speu- 
sippus, the nephew, the pupil and the successor of Plato. He wrote 
an encomium or eulogy on his master. 1 Diogenes mentions another 
eulogy on Plato by Clearchus, who was probably the pupil of Aris- 
totle. Hermodorus wrote a book with the title, ' Of Plato.' He was 
probably a contemporary and a scholar of Plato and the one who 
made known his dialogues in Sicily. Aristoxenus, the celebrated pu- 
pil of Aristotle, wrote the life of Plato and of other philosophers. Pha- 

1 His writings were purchased by Aristotle for three talents. 



372 



BIOGRAPHIES OF PLATO. 



vorinus, who flourished in the time of Trajan, also wrote, according 
to the testimony of Suidas, an account of Plato. He is esteemed, 
says Tennemann, as a very credible authority. Plutarch, in his life 
of Dion, has tolerably full notices of Plato's residence in Sicily, which 
agree substantially with what is contained in the Letters that have 
been attributed to Plato. There is reason to believe that Plutarch 
examined and compared various writers in relation to this sub- 
ject. 

The earliest biographer of Plato, whose works are now extant, is 
Apuleius. He wrote a treatise in Latin, 6 Concerning the Nativity 
of Plato and the Nature of his Doctrines.' He has some statements 
which are not found elsewhere. He appears to have made use of 
the Eulogy of Speusippus. In cases where he agrees with Diogenes, 
he seems to have drawn from the same sources. Diogenes Laertius, 
who flourished under Alexander Severus, or a little later, devotes 
the third book of his memoirs entirely to Plato. Diogenes is a mere 
collector. He throws his facts together without selection or order. 
The authorities are not always given, and his reader is left in entire 
uncertainty in relation to the value of his narrations. Differing state- 
ments are brought forward without any attempt at examination. 
With all his faults, however, his work is of indispensable importance, 
on account of the many materials in it which we can find in no other 
book. Olympiodorus has prefixed to his Commentary on the Alci- 
biades of Plato a short biography. It however contains more errors 
than that of Diogenes. It is inserted in the Tauchnitz edition of 
Plato. Prof. Pleeren has printed in the fifth number of the Biblio- 
thek der alten Litteratur u. Kunst, a life of Plato by an anonymous 
author, from a Pergamus MS. of the year 925. It agrees generally 
with Olympiodorus. It contains, however, some notices of his er- 
rors, and also a few facts not elsewhere found. 

Many Commentaries on the Platonic writings are lost. Others 
remain in libraries still incdited, or edited but in part. Of these 
may be mentioned Damascius, Dexippus, Olympiodorus, Proclus 
and Theon of Smyrna. Albinus, a contemporary of Galen, wrote 
an Introduction to the Platonic Dialogues. We have a few frag- 
ments of the work of Atticus, a Platonic of the age of Marcus Aure- 
lius, on the difference between the Platonic and Aristotelian philoso- 
phy. The commentary of Porphyry, in which he attempts to show 
the agreement of the two systems, is still extant. We have a work 



BIOGRAPHIES OF PLATO. 



373 



of Proclus on the Platonic Theology in six books, and also the Pla- 
tonic Dictionary of Timaeus the Younger, a grammarian of the fourth 
century. The Lexicon of Suidas, in which are united extracts from 
the older grammarians, scholiasts and lexicographers, is essentially 
different from the glossaries, as it contains not only explanations of 
words, but also historical notices, particularly information in respect 
to the most celebrated writers with extracts from their works. This 
author is so entirely unknown that doubts have been expressed 
whether such an individual ever lived. Eustathius, however, cites 
him in a number of places. By some he is placed in the tenth cen- 
tury, by others in the eleventh, and by others still in the twelfth. 
A very complete collection of the Scholia on Plato was made by Da- 
vid Ruhnken, which appeared after his death. They are partly 
grammatical, partly historical. They contain many proverbs, also 
genealogies, mythological notices, verses from lost books, etc. These 
Scholia were printed at Leyden in 1800, and again by Tauchnitz in 
his edition of Plato. 

The predominance of the Aristotelian philosophy in the schools 
of the Middle Ages, gave way to the Platonic after the revival of 
letters. The Florentine, Marsiglio Ficino, translated, under the pa- 
tronage of Cosmo de Medici, the entire works of Plato into Latin. 
This translation has often been reprinted. The first Greek edition 
of the complete works of Plato came from the Aldine press at Ve- 
nice in 1513, in two volumes folio. The edition edited by Herbst 
and Simon Grynaeus, Basil, 1534, was much improved by a careful 
revision, by the addition of the commentary of Proclus on the Ti- 
maeus and the Republic, and by good indexes. In 1578, Henry 
Stephens published at Paris the works of Plato in three volumes fo- 
lio, with a new recension of the text. J. de Serres (Serranus) sup- 
plied a new Latin translation more elegant than that by Ficino, but 
often incorrect. 1 This edition was reprinted, the translation being 
improved, in 1590, at Lyons, and again at Frankfort in 1602. The 
Bipont edition was brought out in 1781 — 87, in eleven volumes, with 
the text of Stephens and the translation of Ficino. Croll, Exter, 
Embser and Mitscherlich had the editorial charge of the edition. 
The Dialogorum Platonis Argumenta of Tiedemann may be regard- 
ed as a twelfth volume of this edition. The stereotype edition of 



1 Scholl Geschichte der Griechischen Litteratur, I. 521 ed. 1828. 



374 



BIOGRAPHIES OF PLATO. 



Tauchnitf, Leipsic 1819, is printed from the text of Stephens. Schlei- 
ermacher also translates, with a few exceptions, from the same. 1 

Of the editions issued in the present century we may name that 
of Immanuel ( Bekker, the well-known philologist at Berlin, 1816 — 
18, in eight volumes octavo. Two volumes of commentaries were 
added in 1823. The text is improved by a new comparison of 
many MSS. The dialogues are printed in the order which was pro- 
posed by Schleiermacher. A very superior edition of Plato has 
just been completed by Frederic Ast. The text, with an entirely 
new translation, is contained in nine volumes. The remaining vo- 
lumes include a critical and exegetical commentary, a Lexicon Pla- 
tonicum and indexes. The basis of the text is that of the first Al- 
dine edition. The external appearance of the volumes is much su- 
perior to that of many German editions of the classics. Professor 
G. Stallbaum of the University of Leipsic, one of the greatest of 
living scholars in the writings of Plato, is now engaged in publishing 
his works. He has the advantage of an unfinished edition commen- 
ced by East and Heindorf. The text is the result of the collation of 
the Vienna, Paris, Florence and Zittau MSS. Several volumes are 
furnished with critical observations, occasional illustration of difficult 
passages, etc. Another edition by C. E. C. Schneider is, we believe, 
in progress at Leipsic. We have seen no notice of its completion. 
It was to contain the results of all which has been hitherto done, in 
a critical respect, for Plato. It was also to embrace a new recension 
of the text and a complete critical apparatus. 

Our limits will compel us to omit all notices of editions of single 
dialogues or productions of Plato. In this service men no less dis- 
tinguished than Wolf, Buttmann, Routh, Heindorf, Bekker, Boeckh, 
Ast, Dindorf, Jacobs, Wyttenbach, Stallbaum, etc., have labored. 
Tennemann, in his System of the Platonic Philosophy, enumerates 
nine distinct treatises or essays on the life of Plato, twelve on sub- 
jects connected with his life, six on his character as a writer, thirty 
on Plato as a philosopher, fourteen on the relation between Plato 
and Aristotle, and forty-two on particular topics connected with or 
growing out of his philosophy ; in all one hundred and thirteen. 
This enumeration was made in 1794. Since that time the number has 
greatly increased. Indeed Plato's writings are one of the most fruit- 

1 Rixner der Gesch. der Philos. 1.210. ed, 1fc29. 



BIOGRAPHIES OF PLATO. 



375 



ful topics of discussion in fruitful Germany, to say nothing of Italy, 
France and Holland. 

One of the earliest general histories of philosophy was that of 
Thomas Stanley, London, 1701. A fourth edition, translated into 
Latin by G. Olearius, was published at Leipsic in 1811. The history 
of philosophy most known in this country and in England is that of 
J. I. Brucker, first published at Leipsic in 1742 — 67, in five volumes 
quarto. From this work our current notions respecting Plato are 
derived, partly through the medium of Dr. Enfield's History. 
Brucker has never enjoyed, it has been said, a very high reputation 
among the learned of Germany. Dugald Stewart thinks that this 
fact is rather to the disadvantage of the German taste, than to that 
of the historian. ' Brucker is indeed,' says Stewart, ' not distin- 
guished by any extraordinary measure of depth or of acuteness ; 
but in industry, fidelity and sound judgment, he has few superiors. ,] 
At the time of writing the above remarks, 1820, Stewart was not 
acquainted with the work of Tennemann. He had seen J. G. 
Buhle's Manual of the history of Philosophy, Gottingen, 1796—1804, 
eight volumes. In addition to this work Buhle published a History 
of Modern Philosophy, Gottingen, 1800 — 6, in six volumes. Stew- 
art's opinion of this author is unfavorable. 

William Theophilus Tennemann was born Dec. 7, 1761, at Brem- 
bach, a village between Erfurt and Eisenach, where his father was 
clergyman. At four years of age he was visited by a long illness re- 
sulting from an attack of the small-pox. This delayed his intellec- 
tual development and laid the foundation for many bodily pains. 
The method of instruction pursued by his father, a man, according 
to the son's testimony, of a gloomy and stern temperament, did not 
hasten the mental progress of the youth. In his sixteenth year he 
joined a school at Erfurt. After remaining there eighteen months, 
he connected himself with the university then existing at Erfurt. 
His love for philosophical studies turned him aside from theology, to 
which, agreeably to his father's wishes, he had devoted himself. In 
1781, he went to the university of Jena, where he was greatly ex- 
cited by the writings of Kant. At first he joined the opposition, but 
he soon became a devoted adherent of the Critical Philosophy. In 
1791, he gave a connected view of 4 the Doctrines and Opinions of 
the followers of Socrates on the Immortality of the soul.' This 
1 Works of D. Stewart, Camb. ed. VI. 487. 



376 



BIOGRAPHIES OF PLATO. 



was followed by his 'System of the Platonic Philosophy,' four 
volumes, Leipsic, 1792—94. This contains the life of the philoso- 
pher, which forms the preceding article in this volume. Being lim- 
ited in his external means, Tennemann now devoted himself rather 
to academical pursuits than to those of an author. In 1798, he was 
appointed professor extraordinary of philosophy at Jena. In 1804, 
he became ordinary professor in the philosophical chair at Marburg, 
vacant by the death of Tiedemann. This office — to which was 
added, in 1816, that of second university librarian— he continued to 
fill till his death, Sept. 30, 1819. Besides the writings already 
named, he left a number of very useful essays ; a translation of 
Hume's Inquiry into the Human Understanding, with Observations, 
1793 ; of Locke's Essay, three volumes, 1795 — 7 ; and De Gerando's 
Comparative History of Systems of Philosophy, two volumes, Mar- 
burg, 1806. His principal reputation rests on his history of Philo- 
sophy, in eleven volumes, Leipsic, 1798—1819. An abstract of this 
work, not fully completed, entitled Grundriss der Geschichte der 
Philosophic, was published in 1812. The fifth edition was edited by 
Professor Wendt. 1 It has been translated into English by Arthur 
Johnson. Nothing of Tennemann's spirit, however, can be disco- 
vered in this skeleton. With the exception of Brucker, Tennemann 
was the first writer who exhibited the whole history of philosophy 
from the sources, in a philosophical spirit, and so as to make it ac- 
cessible to the general mind. He has the merit of having awakened 
a manifold interest in these studies, and of having helped many 
thinkers to a proper recognition of them. The principal fault which 
has been found with Tennemann is thus mentioned by Mr. Stewart. 
" The history of Tennemann in particular (a work said to possess 
great merit) would appear to have been vitiated by this unfortunate 
bias [derived from Kant] in the views of its author. A very compe- 
tent judge has lately said of it, that ' it affords, as far as it is com- 
pleted, the most accurate, the most minute, and the most rational 
view we yet possess of the different systems of philosophy ; but that 
the critical philosophy being chosen as the vantage ground from 
whence the survey of former systems is taken, the continual refer- 
ence in Kant's own language to his peculiar doctrines, renders it fre- 

1 Wendt was born at Leipsic, Sept. 29, 1783. In 1816, he became ordinary 
professor of philosophy at Leipsic. In J 829 he took Bouterwek's place as 
ordinary professor of philosophy at Gottingen. He died Oct. 15, 1836. 



BIOGRAPHIES OF PLATO. 



377 



quently impossible for those who have not studied the dark works 
of this modem Heraclitus to understand the strictures of the historian 
on the systems even of Aristotle or Plato." 1 Notwithstanding this 
defect, Tennemann is a perspicuous and agreeable, as well as pro- 
found writer. The indiscriminate charge of obscurity and Kantism, 
which has been sometimes alleged against him, can by no means 
be supported. 

In regard to the life of Plato, by Tennemann, which we have 
translated, Schleiermacher has the following remark : " Tenne- 
mann, in his system of the Platonic philosophy prefixed to the 
life of Plato, has already subjected to a sifting process the compilation 
of Diogenes and the other old biographies of Plato, compared with 
what is found scantily dispersed in other sources. As, then, since 
that time neither materially deeper investigations have been pub- 
lished, nor new facts discovered, affording any well-grounded hope 
of leaving far behind them, in their application, the labor already 
bestowed on this subject, it is best to refer such readers as wish to 
be instructed upon that point, to what they will there find.' 1 A high 
commendation of Tennemann's labors from the pen of Schleier- 
macher — certainly a most competent judge— we shall quote in the 
sequel. 

In the early part of the present century, Dr. Frederic Schleier- 
macher betook himself to an examination of all known systems of 
morals ; and it is he to whom is mainly owing the new ardor 
for the study of Plato. His translation of the Platonic dialogues 
appeared at Berlin in the years 1804—9. It was accompanied by a 
general introduction, and also by particular introductions. 2 It was 
his intention to publish the whole of the works of Plato upon 
this plan ; but we have to regret the want of introductions to the 
Timaeus, the Critias, the Laws and a number of the pieces which 
are not regarded as genuine. He viewed the works of Plato as a 
whole, and endeavored to arrange them in their natural connection ; 
and he conceived that by internal evidence he had found in them the 
order in which the author's thoughts were developed, being also that 
in which the several works were written. Though details of his 
scheme have been loosened by later inquirers, the main principles 
are regarded by good judges as finally fixed. 3 

1 Stewart's Works, VI. 486. 2 Translated by Wm. Dobson. 

3 London Quart. Rev. No. V22, p. 258. 

48 



378 



BIOGRAPHIES OF PLATO. 



In his general introduction, Schleiermacher, after remarking upon 
the impracticable modes of arranging Plato's dialogues proposed by 
Diogenes, Eberhard, Geddes and others, thus proceeds: "Quite 
different, however, from all that has hitherto been done is the char- 
acter of the attempt made in Tennemann's system of the Platonic 
Philosophy ; the first, at all events, with any pretensions to com- 
pleteness, to discover the chronological order of the Platonic dia- 
logues from various historical traces impressed upon them ; for this 
is certainly critical in its principles, and a work worthy in every way 
of an historical investigator like the author of that treatise. In this 
undertaking, indeed, his view is directed less to discover, by the 
methods he adopts, the real and essential relation of the works of 
Plato to one another, than to discover in general the dates of their 
composition, in order to avoid confounding early and imperfect 
attempts with an exposition of the philosophy of the mature and 
perfect Plato. And to that undertaking, generally, the present is a 
necessary counterpart ; and thus, on the other hand, that method, 
resting as it does entirely upon outward signs, provided it could 
only be universally applied, and provided also, it could definitely assign 
to any Platonic dialogue its place between any two others, would 
be the natural test of our own method, which goes entirely upon 
what is internal. It may not indeed be necessary on that account 
that the results of the two should perfectly concide, for the reason 
that the external production of a work is subjected to other external 
and accidental conditions than its internal development, which 
follows only such as are inward and necessary ; whence slight 
deviations might equally arise, so that what was internally in ex- 
istence sooner than something else, does not appear yet externally 
until a later period." 

Schleiermacher divides the works of Plato into three classes. In 
the first class, the development of the dialogistic method is the pre- 
dominant object ; and hence manifestly the Phaedrus is the first and 
the Parmenides is the last in this class, partly as a most perfect ex- 
hibition of it, partly as a transition to the second part, because it 
begins to philosophize upon the relation of ideas to actual things. 
The Phaedrus, Protagoras and Parmenides, have a character of 
youthfulness quite peculiar. They appear in the first glitter and 
awkwardness of early youth. They are not worked up into one 
whole, with a definite purpose, and with much art. In them also 



BIOGRAPHIES OF PLATO. 



379 



are shown the first breathings of what is the basis of all that follows, 
of logic as the instrument of philosophy, of ideas as its proper ob- 
ject, consequently of the possibility and of the conditions of know- 
ledge. In the second part, the explanation of knowledge, and of the 
process of acquiring knowledge, is the predominant subject. At 
the head of this part stands the Theaetetus beyond the possibility of a 
mistake, taking up, as it does, this question by its first root; the 
Sophistes with the annexed Politicus is in the middle, while the 
Phaedon and the Philebus close it, as transitions to the third part ; 
the first, from the anticipatory sketch of natural philosophy, the 
second, because in its discussion of the idea of the good, it begins to 
approximate to a totally constructive exposition, and passes into the 
direct method. This second part is distinguished by a great arti- 
ficialness, as well in the construction of particular dialogues as in 
their progressive connection, and which might be named for dis- 
tinction's sake, the indirect method, since it commences almost 
universally with the juxta-position of antitheses. Some of the Pla- 
tonic dialogues are distinguished above all the rest by the fact that 
they alone contain an objective, scientific exposition, the Republic 
for instance, the Timaeus and the Critias. Everything coincides 
when we assign to these the last place, tradition, as well as internal 
character though in different degrees of the most advanced ma- 
turity and serious old age ; and even the imperfect condition which, 
viewed in connection, they exhibit. But more than all this, the 
nature of the thing decides the question; inasmuch as these ex- 
positions rest upon the investigations previously pursued ; upon the 
nature of knowledge generally, and of philosophical knowledge in 
particular ; and upon the applicability of the idea of science to the 
objects treated of in those works, — man himself, and nature. 

In 1816, Prof. Frederic Ast published a volume entitled, 4 Plato's 
Life and Writings.' Thirteen pages are occupied by a general 
introduction, twenty-one only with Plato's life, and four hundred and 
eighty on his writings. The work is thus described in the Halle 
Journal. " Ast has here suggested considerations on the nature of 
the Platonic philosophy, on the spirit which shows itself in the ex- 
hibition of Plato's philosophical ideas, and has made them, in con- 
nection with the analysis of particular dialogues, together with the 
historical notices of Plato and of other authors, the basis of the 
entire introduction. The work is particularly characterized by a 



380 



BIOGRAFHIES OF PLATO. 



fulness of learning, by a philosopical spirit, by efforts to separate 
the uncertain and the merely probable from that which is true, and 
to give to all these investigations, (which are particularly distinguish- 
ed by subjective feeling,) a solid basis. Hence the work contains 
much that is peculiar in its views and results, and much that is 
new. If this latter is not always to be taken as correct, the produc- 
tion, notwithstanding, is very interesting and worthy of the closest 
examination.'" 1 The following extract will show the spirit of Ast. 
" In Plato more than in any other philosopher of antiquity do we 
find the ideal joined with the actual, the mythic with the dialecti- 
cal — an inward bond of science and philosophy in the element of 
religion — and that, from which all the other peculiarities flow, a 
philosophical spirit which, without embodying itself into a system, 
lives in the free and boundless region of ideas. The peculiarity of 
Plato's compositions is this, namely, that he has no peculiarity ; 
Platonism cannot be regarded as a system opposed to what is pe- 
culiar in another system ; all which is peculiar, all which belongs to 
the temporary condition of the individual is lost and transformed 
in the idea of philosophy. Platonism is not, therefore, to be viewed 
as a system, in which the thinker, Plato, according to his peculiar 
individual manner of reflection, has expressed his own views and in- 
quiries on the cause, nature and final purpose of things, but he is 
lifted above what is finite and temporary ; he lives in the etherial 
realm of ideas ; he lives in the bright light of philosophy itself. 
Hence one finds in Platonism the germ of all systems without itself 
being the foundation of any ; for it is the idea of philosophy, the 
focus of its particular forms, the immovable sun of its planetary 
changes. Platonism is idealistic, without being itself apparently 
idealism ; it is realistic, without feeing realism. " 2 

Ast classifies the Platonic dialogues in the three following series. 

1. The Socratic. Those which have to do directly with the ideal So- 
crates, and in which the poetic and dramatic element predominates. 
Of this class are the Protagoras, Phaedrus, Gorgias and Phaedon. 

2. The dialectical, brought out probably at Megara after the death 
of Socrates. These are pervaded by a dialectical acuteness. The- 
aetetus, Sophistes, Politicus, Parmenides and Cratylus. 3. The pure- 
ly philosophical, Philebus, Symposium, Republic, Timaeus and 

1 Halle Allgem. Litt. Zed. Ibl7, I. 56. 

2 Platon's Leben u. Schriftun, p. 5, 



BIOGRAPHIES OF PLATO. 381 

Critias. These are penetrated with the poetic and dialectical 
element. 

The principal deficiency of Ast arises from his skepticism. " Of 
all modern learned men," says Schoell, " who have assailed the 
Platonic writings, Ast has carried his skepticism the furthest." 
Boeckh calls him hypercritical. A principal ground of the historical 
incredulity of Ast, or that which relates to the life of Plato, is the 
disagreement of ancient writers in their narratives ; for example, of the 
journies of Plato, and of his residence in the Syracusan court. "Hence 
only the mere fact is regarded as historically certain, everything else 
is fiction, decoration or conjecture. This fate attaches to all the 
great men of antiquity, especially to those who were most intellectual 
in their life and labors. In respect to facts related of these, historical 
skepticism must be altogether justifiable." This way of thinking is not 
to be disregarded ; yet it will be pressed too far, if it does not allow 
room for historical probability in connection with that which is certain. 
If the fact be undoubted that Plato was thrice at the court of Syra- 
cuse, then these journies must have had a reasonable object. Why 
may we not from the various narratives in relation to these jour- 
nies hold those things as true, which agree with the character and 
labors of Plato? 1 

Joseph Socher on 4 the writings of Plato, Munich, 1820,' arranges 
the Dialogues into ten groups. The first group embraces those 
which relate to the trial and death of Socrates, as the Euthyphron, 
the Apology, the Phaedon, etc. ; the second includes those which 
directly follow one another, Theaetetus, Sophistes, Politicus, the 
Republic, etc. ; the third, those which are directed against false 
wisdom, Euthydemus, Protagoras, Gorgias, etc. This arrangement, 
however, seems to be especially arbitrary. 

One of the eminent Germans who has given much attention to 
Plato is Augustus Boeckh. He was born at Carlsruhe, 1785, 
studied at Halle, and, in 1811, became professor of classical litera- 
ture at Berlin. He is greatly distinguished by his works on Pindar, 
and by his Political Economy of the Athenians. He is now engaged 
in a great work under the patronage of the Berlin Academy, entitled 
'Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum.' His smaller writings relate 
chiefly to Plato and to the Platonic philosophers. 

From the brief MS. notes of Boeckh's lectures on Plato, before 

1 Allgem. Lit. Zeit. 1817, I. 62. 



382 



BIOGRAFHIES OF PLATO. 



mentioned, we will now make a few miscellaneous extracts.— 4 Plu- 
tarch in his life of Solon says that Plato went to Egypt to sell oil ! 
a joke possibly. Oil was the chief product of Athens. Produce 
was equivalent to our letters of exchange. Plato brought no wisdom 
from Egypt, for there was none there. Thus the hieroglyphics, so 
far as they are deciphered, teach. The Egyptians were dull and 
steady; the very opposite of the Greeks. In Cyrene, Plato spent 
some time. He was from childhood inclined to mathematics. Pla- 
tonic mathematics were speculation, not practical matters as with 
us. Geometrical figures were an image of the ideas. This gave 
Plato a great zeal for mathematics.' 

4 Had Plato esoteric and exoteric doctrines ? That he had both 
is said on the false, or at least doubtful supposition that he was a Py- 
thagorean. The opinion originated in a love of the mysterious. The 
position is supported by no proof, though in his seventh letter, it is said 
that he never fully explained his views in his books. But the reason is, 
he chose that way of dialogue, hints, allusions, etc., as best fitted to 
his purpose.' 1 The sophists took away philosophy by skepticism. 
But Socrates restored it by selecting from the truths which were ac- 
knowledged by poets, statesmen, etc. Plato carried this to a higher 
degree. By means of criticism, the different and conflicting systems 
were sifted, and the true put into one system. Plato's philosophy 
is said to be a mixture of the Pythagorean, Eleatic, Ionian, etc. 
But Plato was not a mere eclectic or compiler, but his system had an 
internal bond of connection, and came from within outward. Plato 
takes a wide view of what was before seen partially. All the 
tendencies, physical, ethical, etc. were united in him. It is an 
organized whole.' ' The one and the many are united in Platonism. 
This unity is not made out, however, by a symbolic system of num- 
bers, but by ideas." ' The language of Plato is, in the historical 
sense, the new Attic. The older Attic, as that of Thucydides, was 
rougher and stronger. The new Attic was more soft, delicate and 
beautiful. Plato had no single form, but united all forms. He 
joined the prosaic and the poetic manner. This results not merely 
from his genius. Plato was very pains-taking in writing, like 
Addison. Style was a study. Every subject had its own manner, 
partly because he entered into it, and partly because he made it a 
special object. At first, in accordance with his youthful studies, he 
was more poetic, as in the Phaedrus.' ' Again, Plato was highly 



BIOGRAPHIES OF PLATO. 



383 



mimical. This tendency was probably cherished by Sophron. 
Whether he was influenced by Aristophanes is doubtful.' ' In the 
earlier literature, the dialogue had three elements, besides poetry. 
First, it was a description of moral action, copied exactly from com- 
mon life, as was the case with Soohron's mimics, where nature is 
free. This is not rejected by Plato. Secondly, the Eleatic form 
was the direct opposite. Here there are no mimics, and no real 
persons. One man acts two parts, asking questions, and then 
answering them. It was more dialectic than dialogistic. This Plato 
used in part, as in the Parmenides. Thirdly, the Socratic. This is 
a natural simple dialogue, designed to teach all kinds of men, so 
that all could understand.' ' The whole principle of dialogue is 
this. In writing, it is impossible to say exactly what one wishes — 
to exhibit everything so clearly as not to be misunderstood. A dis- 
cussion is more like a conversation, so that the reader will be as if 
he were hearing a conversation. Plato wished that the reader 
should be himself active in the discussion. Men commonly think 
that Plato had no definite system, but spoke differently on different 
occasions. Schleiermacher has, however, shown, that when Plato 
was giving his own opinions, which seem to disagree, it was merely 
because he took different views of the same subject, which in form, 
not in fact, are contrary to one another.' 

We will now advert to Dr. Henry Hitter's History of Philosophy. 
When he commenced his publication he was professor extraordinary 
of philosophy in Berlin. He is now professor ordinarius in the same 
department at the university of Kiel. He is not a relative, we be- 
lieve, of the distinguished geographer, Dr. Charles Hitter of Berlin. 
The first volume of his History of Philosophy was published in 
1829. It contains a general introduction, and six books on the 
Oriental, Chinese and Indian systems of philosophy, and on the 
Greek philosophy anterior to the age of Socrates. The second 
volume, 1830, includes one book on Socrates and the Socratic 
school, and one book on Plato and the old Academy. Volume 
third, 1831, contains two books, one on Aristotle and the Peripatetics, 
one on the Skeptics and Epicurus, and one on the Stoics. The 
fourth volume, 1834, in two books, describes the decline of the old 
systems, the new developments of the Greek philosophy among the 
Romans and Orientals, and the rise of New Platonism. A second 
edition of the first two volumes has lately appeared. Dr. Hitter 



384 



BIOGRAPHIES OF PLATO. 



has guarded against the fault of Tennemann, 1 and states the doc- 
trine of the ancients, as much as possible, in their own words and 
forms of expression. About 350 pages of the second volume of 
Hitter are devoted to Plato and his doctrines. The life is despatched 
in a few pages. Ritter is less skeptical than Ast, while he is more 
disposed to doubt than Tennemann. He considers that the grounds 
on which Socher, Ast and others reject a number of the dialogues 
of Plato are insufficient. He coincides with the general arrange- 
ment of Schleiermacher. His remarks on the writings of Plato are 
arranged under the three heads of Dialectics, Physics and Ethics. 
One chapter is devoted to the pupils of Plato in the old Academy, 
Speusippus, Xenocrates, Polemon, etc. We may add that a large 
portion of the second edition of Ritter have been translated into 
English by Mr. A. J. W. Morrison. Ritter is much less inclined 
to extravagance than some of the writers on philosophy. 

The works of Plato, it is well known, are in the process of trans- 
lation into French by Victor Cousin. Eleven volumes have appear- 
ed. The translator is now diligently engaged in completing his un- 
dertaking. These translations are welcomed with much interest in 
Germany, 2 as fitted to extend in a popular form what the German 
philosophers have been long laboring to effect, in their too often 
scholastic and unintelligible style. Cousin prefaces each dialogue 
with a dissertation. His general view of Plato he has reserved for 
the conclusion of his work. The translation is clear and flowing. 
The French language, however, is ill fitted to express the subtle 
conceptions of the Grecian. 

In the mean time a zealous Platonist has arisen in Holland, in 
Professor Van Heusde of the university of Utrecht. In the years 
1827—31, he published in two volumes, 'Initia Philosophiae Plato- 
nicae.' This work is written in good Latin, and contains a review 
of the spirit and composition of Plato's works, rather than a dry 
analysis of his philosophy. It shows Plato's own character, and his 

1 Ritter speaks, however, in the highest terms of this writer. " No impar- 
tial person can deny the great service which Tennemann has rendered to 
the history of philosophy in the investigation of facts, from the limited point 
of view from which he has examined the systems." Introduction, 1. 34. 

2 See the remarks of Schelling translated in Mr. Ripley's Specimens of 
Foreign Literature, I. 201 ; also Rixner d. Geschich. d. Phil. I. 202. 



BIOGRAPHIES OF PLATO. 



385 



views of what human life ought to be. It contains extracts made 
with taste and judgment from the more picturesque dialogues. 6 The 
work,' says the London Quarterly Review, ' is not unlike Lowth's 
Lectures on Hebrew Poetry.' In 1834—5, Van Heusde published 
in the Dutch language, ' The Socratic School, or Philosophy for the 
19th Century, in three parts.' This production is reviewed by Ull- 
mann in the Theological Studies and Criticisms for 1837. It is not 
so much an exhibition of the mode of thinking of Socrates and Pla- 
to, as it is a presentation of the wisdom and practical observations of 
those great men, with special reference to life and to our times. The 
author has kept prominently in mind the relation of the Socratic 
philosophy to the christian religion. The first part contains remarks 
on the Beautiful and on the corresponding abilities and powers of 
man, on the fine arts, music, poetry, etc. ; on truth and the means 
of acquiring knowledge ; on the sciences, their principles and na- 
ture, and their application in particular departments ; on the relation 
of art and science, and the bearing of both on the education of man. 
The second part relates to the so-called moral and positive sciences, 
jurisprudence, theology, etc., but more particularly to ethics, philoso- 
phy and history, and develops their nature and principles. The 
third part goes over into the metaphysical region, and handles at 
length the relations of philosophical knowledge to the ancient world, 
to religion and to Christianity. Here the author takes special pains, 
for the benefit of younger theologians, to point out the best way in 
which study can be pursued. He inquires how far the ancients went 
in the knowledge of religious truth, and in what points they were at 
variance with the higher revelations of Christianity. 

In 1835, Dr. Charles Ackermann, archdeacon at Jena, published 
a book of 370 pages, entitled the ' Christian in Plato and the Plato- 
nic Philosophy.' This is reviewed in a very able manner, in the 
ninth volume of the Stud. u. Krit. by Dr. C. J. Nitzsch, and Dr. 
Henry Hitter. " In Ackermann's work," says Nitzsch, " we have 
the fruits of rich and persevering study, a living acquaintance with 
the objects compared and of their relations, and an inward, spiritual 
love for them. The author makes the things themselves speak ; he 
possesses, in an extraordinary degree, the gift of causing them to 
speak. Aside from the clearness and the definiteness of his prin- 
ciples, we cannot class him with any particular school, although he 
has brought himself into vital connection with all existing philoso- 
49 



386 



BIOGRAPHIES OF PLATO. 



phy." A principal thought in the treatise is, that ' Plato designed 
happiness for man, but still did not produce it.' The author then 
proceeds to point out the difference between Platonism and Chris- 
tianity. The former wants the person and the deed, the life and 
sufferings of the Redeemer. Sin is rather a mistake than sin. 
Platonism knows nothing of the humbleness and the child-like re- 
verence which Christianity awakens. It does not lead to a holy, 
personal, living God. 

In 1837, Professor Baur of Tubingen published an essay with a title 
similar to that of Ackermann. We translate the following from the 
preface : " An Essay by Ackermann under the title of the ' Christ- 
liche des Platonismus, the relation between Platonism and Chris- 
tianity, has unquestionably given to this particular object of inquiry 
a certain degree of interest for. the time being. On this account, a 
new treatise, under the same designation, cannot appear strange. 
Ackermann, however, has not included in his inquiry the important 
bearing which the person of Socrates must have both on Platonism, 
and especially on the question what are the traces of Christianity in 
Platonism, or what is the relation of Socrates to Christ, though such 
a consideration is urgently demanded by the religious and theologi- 
cal aspects of the times. Here lies the demand to present the 
question lately raised by Ackermann in that definite, religious, and 
philosophical shape as will include the view of the subject to which 
I have referred, along with other matters of moment connected with 
the inquiry. As the external occasion of the appearance of this 
volume lies in the interest which the very useful treatise of Acker- 
mann has awakened in me and in others, I may be permitted to 
repeat in relation to Platonism, and particularly to that view of it 
here presented, what I have brought forward in connection with it in 
some of my writings published in the last few years, in order to 
present more prominently the relation of Platonism to Chris- 
tianity, and to the development of the christian doctrines. I refer 
particularly to the results of my investigations on the Christian 
Gnosis." Among the subjects which this writer takes up are— the 
principles of self-reflection in Platonism, the Platonic State and the 
Christian Church, the Platonic Ideas and the Christian Logos, 
the Preexistence and the Fall of the Soul, the Platonic Love and the 
Christian Faith, God and his relation to the world, the Relationship 
of Platonism and Christianity in respect to the importance which 
Plato attributes to the person of Socrates, etc. 



THE SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS 

BY 

DR. C. ULLMANN. 



LITERATURE OF THE SUBJECT. 



It is well known, that the doctrine of the sinlessness of Jesus has been 
repeatedly discussed already. Every theological system must take notice 
of the doctrine ; and it has also given occasion to numerous particular trea- 
tises. For the sake of presenting a view of the literature of the subject, 1 
would cite the following works, some of which, I regret to say, I have had 
no opportunity to examine. The passages in the Christian Fathers, which 
treat of this subject, are cited very fully by Suicer, in Thes. Eccl. 1. pp. 287 
— 289, under the words avafxaQXtjaiaj avafid^xr^xo?. In the middle ages, the 
controversy respecting the immaculate conception of the virgin was design- 
ed, principally, to affect the question of the sinlessness of Jesus. Among the 
schoolmen, Duns Scotus maintained the possibility of Christ's sinning (hu- 
manam naturam Jesu non fuisse dvajuaQx^xov) , and he was attacked on that 
ground. By modern, particularly Protestant theologians, the doctrine has 
been discussed with greater circumspection. Among the older theological 
systems of our church are especially to be cited, Buddeus's Compend. Theol. 
Dogm. p. 497; Gerhard's Loci Theol. III. 373, and Cotta's Observations ap- 
pended. Still more may be found in Baumgarten's Untersuchung Theolo- 
gischer Streitigkeiten, II. pp. 449, 529 seq., and in Bretschneider's System- 
at. Entwickelung, p. 562. Among the more modern systematical works, 
which briefly treat of the doctrine, are particularly to be mentioned, Doeder- 
lein's lnstitut. II. p. 206 seq. ; Zachariae's Biblische Theologie, III. pp. 
38—46 ; Reinhard's Dogmat. II. § 135 and 138 ; Wegscheider's lnstitut. § 
122, pp. 390, 391 ; Daub's Judas Iscarioth, I. pp. 55, 64, 73, and in many 
other passages; Knapp's Vorlesungen, II. § 93. p. 151; Schleiermacher's 
Christ. Glaub. II. pp.221, 222, and in many other places; De Wette's 
Christl. Sittenlehre, 1. pp. 173 — 193. Separate treatises on the subject are, 
Walther's Diss. Theol. de Christi Hominis " Ava}iaQxr}Gia f Viteb. 1690 ; 
Ejusdem Diss, de Dissimilitud. Ortus nostri et Christi Horn., in his Diss. 
Theol. accedd. ed. Hoffman, pp. 207 — 244 ; Baumgarten's Diss, de * Ava- 
liaqxrjGia Christi ejusque Necessitate, Hal. 1753; Erbstein's Gedanken 
iiber die Frage, ob der Erloser sundigen konnte ? Meissen, 1787 ; Ueber die 
Anamartesie Jesu, in Grimm's und Musel's Stromata, St. 2. S. 113 ; We- 
ber's Progr. Virtutis Jesu Integritatem nequeex ipsius Professionibus neque 
ex Actionibus doceri posse, Viteb. 1796. — Detached passages will be occa- 
sionally quoted from other writings. 



AN APOLOGETIC VIEW 



OF THE 

SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



PREFATORY NOTE. 

[The following Treatise, iiber die Unsiindlichkeit Jesu, is the first 
article in the first number of the Theol. Studien und Kritiken ; a pe- 
riodical established in 1828, and edited by Professors Charles Ull- 
mann, and F. W. C. Umbreit, of Heidelberg. The treatise has 
exerted a visible and salutary influence in Germany. In 1836 three 
editions of it had been called for by the public. The translator has 
taken the liberty to divide it into sections, as it was not divided by 
the author. An incidental design in translating the article has been 
to show the state of theological discussion in Germany, and the wants 
which evangelical Christians there are compelled to meet. The 
reader will find in it a dignity and dispassionateness, a freedom from 
forced constructions and personal censures, which it were well for 
our controversial writers to imitate. The main design, however, of 
the translation has been, to exhibit the connected proof of a proposi- 
tion that is generally taken for granted ; and thus to render our faith 
in that proposition more rational, and by consequence more anima- 
ting and stable. The Saviour is more honored by one who worships 
him, with a clear view of the reasons for such worship, than by one who 
yields to mere authority and blind impulse. It is a great mistake to 
suppose that argument is always useless, where the conclusion will 
be admitted without argument. The consecutive proof fastens the 
attention upon the principles to be proved ; and by holding them up 
before the mind, secures their appropriate moral influence. Some 
American preachers, it is to be feared, are prone to urge upon the con- 
science the obligation to a particular feeling, without presenting to 



390 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



the intellect such ideas as are requisite for the exercise of that feel- 
ing. They are too apt, it may be, to forget that an affection is not 
elicited by mere command or exhortation, but rather, in union with 
these, by the development of the appropriate object of affection. 
The spotless character of the Saviour is so presented in this trea- 
tise, as to exhibit winning reasons for our confidence in him, and to 
show the intimate union between the doctrine and the life ; between 
purity of purpose and unexceptionable conduct. 

The author of the treatise is Dr. C. Ullmann, one of the editors of 
the Stud, und Krit. He has been favorably known, since 1821, as 
an author, and enjoys a very high reputation as a lecturer. Some 
of his writings, particularly in the department of Ecclesiastical His- 
tory, have attracted great attention. In 1829 he was called from the 
University of Heidelberg to that of Halle, but has recently been call- 
ed back to Heidelberg, where he is again associated with Umbreit in 
literary labors. He is between forty-five and fifty years of age. He is 
said to be a particular friend of both Tholuck and Gesenius.— Tr.] 



SECTION I. 

Introduction.— Comparison between the external and internal evidence in 
favor of the christian religion.— Reasons for confining ourselves, in this 
treatise, to the interna] evidence.— Importance of proving the sinlessness 
of Jesus. — Plan of the treatise. 

In modern times it has become more and more obvious, how in- 
calculably important for the proof of historical Christianity, is a clear 
and positive knowledge of the inward religious character of its 
Founder. The sum of the spiritual life of Jesus is the central point 
of the whole christian system. From this all rays of light, and all 
operations of moral power proceed ; and to it all must be traced 
back, so long as Christianity shall have, on the one hand, a sure his- 
torical basis, and on the other, an inward moral excellence. The 
apostles, indeed, do not represent the superior purity of Christ's reli- 
gious character and the superior elevation of his whole soul, as the 
only reason why he appeared to them so peculiarly entitled to ado- 
ration. They formed their conception of him, (as they might do 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



391 



with good reason and certainly without unfair accommodation), by 
viewing his character more historically. They were convinced of 
his Messiahship, not only by the loftiness and divinity of his whole 
spiritual appearance, but especially by the miracles that were wrought 
by him and upon him, and by the agreement of his acts and destin- 
ation with the prophecies of the Old Testament. Still from every- 
thing which they have left us, it is very evident that they had an ad- 
ditional reason for believing in the Messiahship of Jesus. This rea- 
son was, that his words were those of eternal life, and his acts were 
a spiritual exhibition of something truly divine. The apostles would 
not have acknowledged him to be the Saviour, had he not stood before 
their minds in all the fulness of spiritual dignity. Without the un- 
weakened influence of his inward character upon their moral and 
religious consciousness, they could not be firmly convinced that he 
was a pure image of the invisible God by the most astonishing per- 
fection of his power. It was only because he approved himself to 
them as a living representation of the divine love, truth and rectitude, 
that they were able to discover in the extraordinary effects which he 
produced, evidences of a peculiar connection with the Deity. 

The nature of the case and the necessities of their contemporaries 
fully justified the apostles, in proving the divine mission and the Mes- 
siahship of Jesus by the argument from miracles and prophecy. 
But the necessity of the times and of individuals may in this respect 
vary, and although the gospel in its essence remains the same, and 
contains eternal, unchangeable truth, yet in a different age, a differ- 
ent method of proof may lead more immediately to the acknowledge- 
ment of this truth. In our own time, it seems proper to fix our eyes 
especially upon the spiritual character of Jesus, in order to obtain 
satisfactory proof of the divinity of his mission and instructions ; not 
because the apostolical mode of proof has become untenable, but 
because this other mode has a more vital efficacy on account of the 
style of education prevalent at the present day. We do not find 
ourselves in immediate, conscious connection with the spirit and pro- 
phecies of the Old Testament, as the Jews were in the time of the 
apostles ; we live among contemporaries to whom miracles are more 
a ground of doubt than of faith ; we should not forget, that the proof 
from miracles exerts its full power, properly speaking, on none but 
the eye-witnesses of them, and conducts us to the desired conclusion 



392 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



only by a circuitous path. 1 On the other hand, a vivid apprehen- 
sion of the inward character of Jesus brings us nearer to the opera- 
tive centre of Christianity, and at the same time makes us feel the 
influence of the moral power, which goes forth from that centre. 
Here, faith in Jesus rests immediately on himself; it is free, spiritual 
confidence in his person. As with his contemporaries everything 
depended on the yielding confidence with which they received the 
favors which he brought them ; so likewise with us this confidence 
may be the element of a full belief in Christianity, and is, at all 
events, a condition of receiving benefit from our Redeemer. 

While, in what follows, we intend to enlarge upon this mode of 
proving the divinity of the christian religion, it is by no means our 
design to represent this mode as the only right one, and to reject 
every mode that differs from it. It always tends to retard the dis- 
semination of religious and moral truths, to make any one argument 
for them exclusively valid, and thus to forget, that in this case very 
much depends upon each individual's mental peculiarities and de- 
gree of education. The same God, whose will it plainly was that 
there should be an immeasurably rich variety, as of natural produc- 
tions, so also of minds, has opened, for the various intellectual or- 
ganizations, various ways of arriving at the one truth which Christ 
came to disclose. But in whatever way we are led to the acknow- 
ledgement of the christian system, this system is of such a nature, 
that it makes itself entirely master of the mind which it has seized ; 
and from whatever point we step out into the great and well closed 
circle of christian truth, we shall always see, as we follow on with 
connected thought and feeling, that we are surrounded by the whole 
circle. 

It is evident, that the inward character of Jesus can lay the foun- 
dation for such a pious faith in him, as shall cause everything that 
comes from him, to appear holy and true simply because it comes 
from him, (though it may also be proved true from internal reasons), 
— it can lay this foundation, only so far as we have the assurance, 
that his spiritual nature was in every respect faultless, that his de- 
sires and feelings were free from every breath of sin, his thoughts 
from every momentary lapse into error. If Jesus is holy in feeling, 
without a stain ; correct in judgment without any mixture of mis- 



1 See Note A, at the close of this Treatise. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 393 

take ; if there are realized in his person those combined, purest 
ideals of holiness and truth, which in the view of all other men 
seem too lofty to be attained ; then is he, by this very circumstance, 
raised above the common lot of mortals, for they without excep- 
tion are subject to sin and error ; then are we morally and religious- 
ly bound to revere his decisions as words of the highest truth ; and 
there cannot be imagined a nobler endeavor, than to assimilate our- 
selves to the unsoiled image by which his life is represented, to cast 
our own moral natures into the mould of his. But if the contrary be 
supposed, if he were not only susceptible of sin and error, but also 
subject, even incidentally, to the one as well as to the other, then the 
case stands differently with Jesus and our relation to him. Then he 
ceases to be to us what he was to the apostles and all the faithful, 
the image of Deity, the purest pattern of consummate virtue, the 
perfect representation of eternal truth in the speech and life of man, 
the King in the invisible realm of truth. Then does he no longer 
stand out alone in the world's history, but steps down from that rela- 
tive elevation, upon which, to the eye of christian faith, he seemed 
to stand, and mingles with the company of the wise and noble of our 
race, as a great and superior man indeed, but yet as one of their 
fellows, who as well as they is obliged to pay the tax of human in- 
firmity and narrowness. He is a great truth-seeker and truth-finder, 
but not the Truth. He is a good and great man, perhaps the best, 
but not the Holy One of God. His life and his instructions are no 
longer the unimprovable standard of the good and the true ; but are 
subject,— who can tell how far ? — to improvement and correction. 
His example and his words have no longer an authority absolutely 
binding. The system of historical Christianity which is founded on 
his character becomes brittle in its ground-work, and the ecclesiasti- 
cal community, which is built upon that system, must either be dis- 
solved, or must become in its inmost character something different 
from what it was originally, and from what it has been until the pre- 
sent time. Yea, Christ ceases to be the Redeemer ; for, if he him- 
self is subject to sin, how can he make others free from the power 
of the same ? How can he obtain that commodious solid standing 
place, outside of a sinning world, by which he will be able to raise 
up, as it were, the world from its worn out poles ? How can he be- 
come the Creator and the Fountain of a new, pure, sanctified life ? 
If then, as error always enters the mind in conjunction with sin, Je- 
50 



394 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



sus were also not free from error, how could he redeem mankind 
from it ? And in what inconsistencies do we find ourselves entan- 
gled, when we compare with such suppositions all those lofty re- 
marks of Jesus, in which he represents himself as the Truth which 
only can make men free ! 

Thus important in all respects, is the certainty that Christ was 
elevated above all sin and error. This is a foundation-rock of his- 
torical Christianity ; and especially in our own day, the trouble of 
examining thoroughly the firmness of this foundation will be certain- 
ly repaid. In the ensuing remarks, I would contribute somewhat to 
establish this fundamental principle ; and shall consider, first and 
principally in its historical aspect, the position that Jesus was sinless 
and holy in his character, and shall then attend to the consequences 
which result from this principle in favor of the truth and divinity of 
the Saviour's instructions. 



SECTION II. 



Definition of sin and sinless. — Natural power of Christ to sin. — Fearful con- 
sequences which would result from his sinning. — Certainty that he would 
not sin. — Principles and mode of reasoning in this treatise. 

If, in the ensuing treatise, we take as a basis that definition of sin 
which is both truly biblical and also generally recognized in the the- 
ological dialect, 1 and if, accordingly, we define sin to be the devia- 
tion of a free nature from the moral law of God ; the disagreement of 
the moral life, that is, the intentions, the general aim of the will, or 
a single act of the will, and the outward deeds, with the divine law ; 
we must then assign for the first meaning of the word sinlessness, 
nothing more than the absence of such a disagreement, the non-ex- 
istence of a contradiction between the individual free will and the 
will of God, which latter includes the universal law. But we can- 
not stop with this mere negative definition of innocency. As sinless- 
ness is an idea applicable only to beings, who are so constituted that 
they must act morally, and who cannot even omit moral action 
without violating law in the very omission, the idea must necessarily 

1 For Bretschneider's definitions of sin, see Note B, at the close of this 
Treatise. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 395 

refer to something positive, to the performance of something good. 
As he who is to be sinless, cannot be so without willing and doing 
something, neither can he be so without willing and doing what is 
perfectly good. Innocence always involves a positive agreement 
with the divine will. A free and rational nature, which is without 
sin, is also necessarily holy ; and when we describe Jesus as sinless, 
we are not to separate from him pure goodness and holiness, but we 
characterize him as both destitute of sin and positively good. 1 

We by no means, however, understand by the term sinlessness 
an absolute impossibility of sinning. Not the non posse peccare, 
but only the posse non peccare, and the non peccasse should be at- 
tributed to Jesus. Only of God himself, in his everlasting and abso- 
lute holiness, can the perfect impossibility of sinning be predicated ; 
Whenever we attribute, in a proper manner and in the sense of 
Scripture, all the moral elements of man to Jesus, we are not to 
disjoin from them that freedom, which is the power of choosing 
between good and evil ; and for this very reason we are to admit it 
as conceivable, that he might at some time, have been influenced to 
a departure from the will of God. 2 Unless this be supposed, the 
history of the temptation, however it may be explained, would have 
no signiflcancy ; and the expression in the Epistle to the Hebrews, 
" he was tempted in all points as we," would be without meaning. 
Where there is an absolute elevation above the possibility of sin, as 
with God, 3 or where there is altogether wanting a conscience to dis- 
tinguish good and evil, and a susceptibility for the one or the other, 
as with irrational natures ; in all such beings a moral temptation 
is impossible. But where there is a conscience to determine right 
and wrong, and where there is no absolute necessity of doing either 
the one or the other, as is the case with free human beings ; there 
a susceptibility to temptation exists, and with it, a possibility of the 
actual commission of sin. As Jesus was a complete man, this sus- 
ceptibility and this possibility must be supposed to co-exist in him. 
Did they not thus co-exist, he would cease to be an example of per- 

1 See Note C, at the close of this Treatise. 

2 11 The sinlessness of Jesus does not depend upon his being in any measure 
exempted from the nature of man." Schleiermacher's Christl. Glaub, II. 
p. 222; where however there are additional remarks, which are opposed in 
part to the above. 

3 James I; 13, " God cannot be tempted with evil." 



396 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



feet human morality. 1 At the same time, his holiness would be 
not the result of freedom, but as we must think the holiness of God 
to be, the result exclusively of the inner unchangeable necessity of 
his nature. And though, when we contemplate Jesus at the height 
of his perfection, we find in him freedom in the highest sense of the 
word ; that is, a pure, perfect and uniformly triumphant desire of 
good ; still, this higher development of freedom could originate only 
from that lower stage of it, at which the power of free will appears 
more evidently to be the simple power of choosing between good 
and evil. The idea of sinlessness presupposes merely, that the de- 
velopment which Jesus made of human morality, went on of itself, 
without any check or cessation of his freedom to choose between 
good and evil. 2 

In my opinion, this is the view to be taken, when we examine 
the character of Jesus, simply as a human character. If, on the 
other hand, we reflect from a higher position upon the plan of God ; 
a plan which has been in process of preparation for thousands of 
years, and is destined to operate for thousands of years to come, and 
which passed into fulfilment through Jesus Christ, then the thought 
seems truly a most fearful one, that Christ could, as a matter of fact, 
have sinned. Humanly speaking, that plan of God would have been 
frustrated, if Christ had committed a single transgression ; and the 
only light, that was perfectly clear in the whole history of man, 
would have been put out. In this relation, therefore, there seems to 
be a still higher necessity in the moral government of the world, 
that Christ should not have actually sinned. And if, moreover, we 
reflect that a divine principle lived and operated in Jesus, in natural 
and constant unison with the human part of his nature, we shall see, 
that by this principle also, he would be secured against the actual 
commission of iniquity. Now I by no means disown the conviction, 
but rather profess it with joy, in company with the apostles and the 
whole christian church ; the conviction, that Jesus is the Christ, the 
son of the living God ; that the whole fulness of the Deity actually 
dwelt in him, that God was in him, and was reconciling the world 
to himself. This conviction is, to be sure, directly connected with 
the certainty, that Christ was free from transgression, and holy, as 

1 This position has been established most conclusively by Kant.,Relig 
Innerhalb der Granzen der bl. Vernunft. St 2. Abschn. 1. 

2 See Note D, at the close of this Treatise. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JERUS. 



397 



the God whose nature he exhibited to man, by word and deed, by 
life and death. But in the following treatise, we are with propriety 
forbidden to reason from the principles of a christian belief already 
formed ; for this is not designed to be a dogmatic development of 
the doctrine of the sinlessness of Jesus, but rather to be an apologetic 
view, and is thus designed to consult more particularly the 
wants of those readers, who are not yet convinced of several funda- 
mental principles of Christianity, nor even of the truth and divinity 
of the whole christian system. It is doubtless proper, therefore, to 
proceed from principles generally owned and conceded. But no 
one now denies, that Jesus was a true and complete man ; and that 
to him as such belongs a moral preeminence altogether peculiar. 
Christ's character, therefore, is to be considered, at present, in its 
human lineaments alone. Indeed, his sinlessness is a property not 
of his divine, but of his human nature, and even in a distinctively 
doctrinal exhibition, when the peculiar excellences of his human 
nature are treated of, (under which sinlessness is usually ranked), the 
properties and powers of his divine nature are not canvassed in 
connection with them. While we endeavor then to prove the 
sinlessness 1 of Jesus, we must not understand by the term an abso- 
lute impossibility of sinning, but only the actual fact of not sinning, 
and, what is in a rational and free nature inseparable from this fact, 
the highest moral perfection and holiness. 



SECTION III. 

Character of the testimony which we might desire, and of that which we 
have, concerning Christ. — Testimony of men who were hostile to him, 
who were indifferent, who were friendly. — The evangelical history not 
dogmatical. 

When we examine, historically, the developments which Jesus 
made of his own moral feeling, we are instantly inclined to wish 
that men of the most various character, friends and foes, doubters, 
inquirers, and inspired men, had left their respective testimonies 
concerning the impression which his conduct made upon them. 



On the use of the word dva/.ia.Qr?/aca^ some remarks will follow hereafter. 



398 SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 

But this is denied us. The few writers, not Christian, who, near the 
apostolic age, alluded to the existence and works of Jesus, give, 
as is well known, only a negative decision. If we discover some 
parts that are genuine in the oft-quoted passage of Josephus, yet 
they leave only the general impression, that this cultivated Pharisee 
speaks not disparagingly, but with respect and kindness of Christ, 
as he does also of John, the herald of the kingdom of God. As 
these testimonies 1 give us no precise information respecting the 
spiritual peculiarities of Jesus, we must depend for this information 
on the reports of his friends in the Gospels. And these reports are 
of such a character, that, as to everything immediately relating to 
the description of Christ's spirit and life, they carry in themselves 
the indisputable pledge of truth. It may be well regarded as an 
established fact, that the evangelists were not competent to originate 
the spiritual idea of Jesus, and that they were enabled to exhibit this 
idea in a manner as plain as it is dignified, only by having observed 
the Saviour's actual life. The Gospels contain the very richest 
description of the particular circumstances in which Jesus was placed, 
and present to us, in features simple and characteristically true, the 
impression which his appearance made on men of every class. 
They contain, in peculiarly vivid and affecting types, the whole 
history of the kingdom of God, and of its relation to the feelings and 
efforts of men. The treatment of men toward Jesus, and their 
opinion of him might indeed, in another history, have assumed a 
different form, but in substance they would certainly have appeared 
just as they now do. 

If then we look into the Evangelical history, we shall find that 
men of the most various mental character have given testimony, by 
word and deed, that Jesus was a man of extraordinary moral excel- 
lence and also that he was entirely pure, sinless, and holy. His re- 
markable elevation of character is proved, if we may briefly men- 
tion the most significant actions and expressions that relate to it, by 
the hatred of his enemies, who strove in vain to impeach the purity 
of his demeanor, and even by the deportment of those who remain- 
ed in other respects indifferent towards him, of Pilate and his wife. 
The former, one in no way susceptible of the lofty and the 
1 The passages here referred to, from Suetonius, Tacitus, and Josephus, 
are too well known, to make it necessary to quote them. The passage from 
Josephus appears to me to contain a mixture of the genuine and the spurious. 
[For quotations from several ancient authors see Note E. at the close. — Tr.] 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



399 



magnanimous, yea, a hard-hearted and austere person, 1 felt him- 
self compelled to acknowledge solemnly the innocence of the 
persecuted prisoner ; and the latter, his wife, of a gentler spirit, but 
in other respects little concerned about a Jewish teacher, was yet so 
filled with the certainty of the pure intention and the blameless life 
of Jesus, that the meditation on his fate, and the anxiety lest her hus- 
band should stain his hands with the blood of this innocent man, 2 
allowed her no rest in sleep. And a third Roman, who, command- 
ing the watch at the cross of Jesus, saw the whole process of his 
agonizing crucifixion, felt constrained to cry out, Truly, this was a 
righteous man : he was the Son of God. 3 What else could move 
the soldier, who felt strong in spirit, to utter these words, but, in 
connection with the remarkable circumstances of Jesus's death, the 
perception of the inward dignity and the noble spirit of the dying 
man, for designating whom even the Roman could find no 
more fitting expression, than—" the Son of God." And what a 
spectacle it must have been, this dying man ! Even the malefactor, 
crucified with him, was strengthened by it to a new hope, and filled 
with the joys of a better life. 4 This was indeed no situation for 
awakening or nourishing the hopes of a Messiah; and yet the 
crucified malefactor discovered in the man crucified with him, the 
Founder and the Lord of the new kingdom. What an impression 
also must have been produced by the spiritual strength of the man 
forsaken of every outward aid, even on the cross ! How must the 
kinglike and divine of his nature have shone through the deepest 
ignominy ! 

With these testimonies from persons who were not very well ac- 
quainted with Jesus, is to be ranked that of one who knew him most 
thoroughly, and who sealed his testimony in favor of Christ's pure 
and innocent character, with death, but with a death of utter despon- 
dency ; — I refer to the testimony of Judas Iscariot. Had the be- 
trayer of his Lord, through a long and truly intimate intercourse, 
found in him a single thing worthy of blame ; had he recollected one 

1 For a description of the character of Pilate, there is, besides the Evan- 
gelical history, a passage of Philo, not to be overlooked, de Legat. ad Caj. 
11. p. 590. Ed. Mang. [See close of Note E.— Tr.] 

2 Matt. 27: 19. Especially the words : " Have thou nothing to do with 
that just man." 

3 Luke 23: 47. Matt. 27: 54. 4 Luke 23: 40 seq. 



400 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



word or one deed which indicated that Jesus was fanatical or 
fraudulent in his pretensions to be the Messiah from God, he cer- 
tainly would have sought out the most insignificant foible, so that he 
might palliate his crime and relieve his conscience in view of the 
fearful results of his treachery. But he can find nothing. He feels 
himself forced to make the bitter confession, — I have betrayed inno- 
cent blood ; x yea, the consciousness of this crime presses so insup- 
portably upon his spirit, that he at last goes out and gives himself 
over to death ! 

If the traitor is forced to testify thus concerning his Lord, what 
shall we expect from Christ's true friends, but the unconditional ac- 
knowledgment of, and the highest veneration for his perfect good- 
ness and holiness of motive and conduct. With entire harmony, 
they point him out, in an especial manner, as the just man and the 
holy ; 2 as the man who was tempted in all points as we are, yet 
without sin ; 3 who is the most eminent pattern for us, because he 
knew no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth ; 4 as the pure and 
spotless lamb ; 5 as the true high priest who is holy, harmless, unde- 
fined, separate from sinners, and made higher than the heavens ; 
who therefore needed not, as other high priests, to bring an offering 
for his own sins ; 6 who rather, simply because there was no iniquity 
found in him, was able to take away our iniquities. 7 Without this 
persuasion of his perfect innocence and holiness, the apostles had 
not been at all able to discover in him that which they did discover, 
not only the noblest prophet, but the Messiah, endued with the whole 
fulness of the divine Spirit ; 8 the founder of a new divine kingdom 
of love, truth and righteousness, in which he himself would be the 
lawgiver, king and pattern ; the Redeemer from sin ; the vanquisher 

1 Matt. 27: 4. 

2 Acts 3: 14. 7: 52. 22: 14. 1 Pet. 3: 18. 1 John 2: 29. 3: 7. 

3 Heb. 4: 15. 4 1 Pet. 2: 21,22. 5 1 Pet. 1:19. 

6 Heb.7: 26,27. 

7 Uohn 3: 5. 2 Cor. 5: 21. Consult on the first passage LUcke's Com. 
pp. 161, 162. 

8 In the Old Testament description of the Messiah also, he is represented 
as free from sin ; Is. 53: 9. If the Messiah must be a true servant of God, 
a pure minister of Jehovah, a representative of God in the Theocracy, then 
he must in all respects perform the divine will, be perfectly righteous, and 
free from iniquity. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



401 



of all evil ; the image of God, the only good and holy One. Indeed 
no man can be an image of Jehovah, a living expression of the divine 
nature, in whom there is a single moral error or delinquency, who 
in a single respect deviates from God's moral law. He only can be 
this image, who is altogether without sin, and in the highest sense of 
the term, holy ; who is, as it were, the incarnated will of God, and 
who through his whole life brings into distinct view the law of holi- 
ness. Even so a Redeemer from sin and the power of evil, can be 
no other than one who is himself free from the same ; every other 
would have stood in need of his own redemption, and reconciliation 
with God. 1 

By these remarks, however, we would by no means give room 
for the idea, that the assertion of Christ's sinlessness was made by 
the apostles merely from the dogmatical point of view, that Jesus 
could not, unless holy, have been the Messiah and Redeemer. No, 
their conviction rested on a thorough knowledge of his life ; they 
did not model the life of Jesus according to their own ideas, but 
their own ideas were by degrees modelled according to the instruc- 
tions and the life of Jesus. They were indeed, at the beginning, 
scarcely able to understand him ; they frequently were perplexed 
concerning him ; but they always found themselves drawn to him 
again with new spiritual power, 2 until, advanced from one degree of 
evidence to another, they were able to take clearly into their vision 
the lofty spiritual image, which the whole deportment of Jesus held 
out before them. And accordingly this image is exhibited in the 
Gospels with such artless, convincing truth, that every unprejudiced 
man feels and will confess, that it was not a doctrinal presupposi- 
tion from which the apostles started, and then described a man who 
might answer somewhat to their ideal of pure holiness ; but it was 
an actual, real life which was displayed before them, and from 
which was developed in their minds, a faith in the Holy and God-like 
man. 

i Heb. 7: 2(1, 27. 2 See, for example, John 6: G9. 



51 



402 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



SECTION IV. 

Peculiar elevation of Christ's character: his serenity, moderation, conde- 
scension, power to govern both himself and others, dignity in the treat- 
ment of his enemies, tenderness of sympathy, liberality of mind, expan- 
sive benevolence, completeness of character, physical temperament.— 
Pvuling motive of his life.— Importance of his character, as a bare idea; 
how this idea must have been obtained by the evangelists. 

The idea which Christ's disciples give us of his character is ele- 
vated and peculiar. There is in it this peculiarity ; though always 
unattainable, the character stands before us in so much the greater 
dignity and pureness, the more highly we cultivate our own spirits, 
and the more strenuously we endeavor, under the influence of love, 
to assimilate ourselves to it. Every attempt therefore to represent 
the fulness of Christ's moral nature must of necessity be but par- 
tially successful. And the following remarks must be received 
with a full understanding of their necessary imperfection. For 
they are remarks, that venture to arrange in one connected order 
what the evangelists have left scattered, and to reduce the whole 
to the principle which pervades and animates the entire practice of 
Jesus. 

The events of Christ's life give the impression, that he had the 
greatest calmness, clearness of mind, and discretion, united with 
living, deep enthusiasm. It is not the vehement strain, the flaming 
spirit of Isaiah and Ezekiel, that distinguishes him ; not the legisla- 
tive, sometimes violent energy of Moses ; his whole nature is se- 
renity and peace ; and the blazing, consuming fire of the old pro- 
phets changes itself in him into a soft creative breathing of the spi- 
rit, into an uninterrupted consecration of the soul to God. In the 
spiritual atmosphere to which others raise themselves only in the 
hours of their special consecration, he walks as in his appropriate 
element of life. As the sun in a clear firmament, so he, still and 
sure, travels on in his safe path, and never deviates, dispensing light 
and life. His action is full of love, without effervescence of feel- 
ing, without vehemence and passion. He does nothing indiscreet 
and aimless ; whatever he begins is securely finished and accom- 
plishes its design. Even when with holy reluctance, he comes to re- 
prove in word or in deed, it is no irritated personal feeling, that vents 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



403 



itself, but it is always the indignation of love ; holy, free from all 
selfish aim, hating the vice, but yet, in the vicious, loving the man 
who is still susceptible of improvement. And in all this, he never 
oversteps the bounds of moderation. 

Jesus is soft and mild ; he seeks above all, the lowly, the help- 
less, the despised ; and of his own free will lets himself down to the 
deepest degradation, and the most ignominious suffering ; but from 
under the veil of poverty and distress which covers him, there shines 
forth in every situation of his life a high, kingly spirit. He pos- 
sessed that talent for government, that commanding power, by means 
of which great minds are always and entirely their own masters ; by 
which they know, in the most embarrassing situations and with the com- 
posure of one free from doubt, just what is right and fit to be done, and 
by which they hold a sway over other minds that is like enchantment. 
With this dignity, this kingly mien, sealed by his spiritual greatness, 
did the same Jesus who had not where to lay his head, move about 
among his friends, and present himself before his foes. " His deed 
was decisive as his word, his word as his deed." Where his ene- 
mies sought to lay snares for him, he rent asunder the snares, and 
with his superior power of mind, repelled all attacks, until himself 
was convinced that his hour had come. Not seldom did he shame 
his enemies by bare silence ; a silence which was then most effec- 
tive when, in calm consciousness of innocence, he stood before the 
Sanhedrim as they were burning with revenge. But nothing ex- 
ceeds the dignity with which Jesus bore testimony of himself, in face 
of the secular governor and judge. "I am a king : for this end I 
was born, and have come into the world, that I may testify to the 
truth : whoso is of the truth, heareth my voice." How all other 
greatness fades away, before the consciousness of such elevation ! 
And what word of sage, hero, or any one of the greatest or mighti- 
est men, can for its inward majesty, be placed by the side of this, 
"lam a king ; for this end have I come into the world, that I may 
testify to the truth !" 

With the greatness of a hero Jesus stepped forth in the garden of 
Gethsemane, among the officers who sought him, and said, "I am 
he," and they fell on the ground before him. With a power that 
cut to the heart, he said to Judas, " Betrayest thou the Son of man 
with a kiss !" With a look full of love, yet doubtless full of reprov- 
ing dignity, he deeply pierced the soul of the disciple, who had de= 



404 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



nied him ; and what irresistible effect must the thrice repeated words 
have had, which, soon after rising from the dead, he addressed to the 
same disciple, " Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me ?" It was the 
court of love, which here pronounced its decision upon the unfaith- 
ful friend ; a decision in which lay a marvellous power to humble 
deeply the magnanimous disciple, and, at the same time, to afford 
him a truly exquisite relief, and to strengthen him. 

Such words of life and power, spoken with the majesty of Jesus, 
must work irresistibly ; they must entrench themselves in the souls 
of those who heard, so as never to be expelled. They show to us a 
man in the noblest sense of the word, a king-like hero, who is so 
much the greater, because without any outward power, he merely 
bears the sword of spiritual worth. And even this great man, whose 
will, never deviating from the way of God, no power of earth could 
bend, who was even as mighty in deed, as silent, self-denying, and 
piously trustful in suffering, — he was also as mild and full of love, 
as the gentlest woman, 1 when he would aid, console, feelingly sym- 
pathize. He went about and did good, helped the poor in body and 
in spirit ; blessed children, placed himself on a level with the least 
of his brethren ; for whoever comforts one of these least with a cup 
of water, hath done the same unto me. 2 Nothing that concerned 
humanity was foreign from him ; every man stood near to him as a 
brother. His characteristic action was, to raise up again the bruised 
reed, to enkindle anew the glimmering wick. He wept over the 
city that rejected him, and prayed on his cross for those who had 
nailed him to it. His whole life was a sacrifice. 

As Jesus, in his moral constitution, did not belong exclusively to 
one sex, so neither in any of his higher operations, was he fettered 
by family ties ; nor in his whole spiritual formation, was there any 
national feeling, which could restrain his comprehensive, pure phi- 
lanthropy. He was the best of sons, and performed the duties im- 
posed by the filial relation, with the tenderest love, even in the hour 
of death. But at the same time he made all that was personal in 

1 He blended in his nature the virtues of the noblest manliness, with those 
of the purest womanhood ; and was also, in this respect, the most complete 
model of a perfect human being- ; so that although his destiny required him 
to belong to one sex, he yet is a suitable pattern for the purest virtues of the 
other. 

2 Matt. 10: 42. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



405 



such connections subordinate to what was higher, to the general 
good, to the glory of his Father. 1 As the Messiah, his office was of 
greater moment to him, than all these relations ; as the founder of 
the kingdom of God, he recognized in every one who did the will 
of God, his mother, his brother, his sister ;— and he required of 
every one who entered into this great spiritual covenant, that he 
should be ready to sacrifice the most precious personal connections, 
whenever the law or the design of the new kingdom demanded it. 
So likewise Jesus was a pious Jew, and observed the religious cus- 
toms and laws of his nation with as much scrupulousness as liberal- 
ity of spirit ; yet nothing at all of an unseemly national prejudice 
was mingled with his observances; not a shadow of that which 
pointed out a Jew, as such, to his disadvantage. He possessed the 
virtues of his theological nation, as it may not unfitly be called ; but 
in such a way, that they could be generally appropriate to man in 
any relations whatever. And by this he distinguishes himself, in the 
most prominent manner, from all, even the greatest spirits of anti- 
quity. 2 All these great spirits have a thoroughly national stamp ; 
their most praiseworthy virtue is the free obedience to the laws of 
their country ; their highest enthusiasm is devoted to the interests of 
their own nation ; their noblest sacrifice is death for the land of their 
fathers ; the great work of their life is, to express the full spirit of 
their people ; in this spirit to act, for this spirit, if need be, to give 
up all. In the strength of his endeavor, in his ability to make every 
sacrifice, Jesus stands second to none of the greatest heroes ; but 
he performs his labors and makes his sacrifices not barely for his 
own nation, but for all mankind. Free from every impulse of that 
national feeling that stints the soul, he develops himself purely from 
within, from his own resources ; and as he exhibits the image of a 
man in his whole, unspotted, perfect nature, and is the first by whom 
the idea of pure humanity, in the highest and at the same time the 
realized sense of that word, was presented to the human mind, — so 
is he the first who breaking over all the bounds of national predilec- 
tion, embraces in his efforts, and with holy love, the whole race ; ven- 
tures for the whole race to live and to die. 

In general, the character of Jesus, though thoroughly individual 

1 For examples, see John 2: 4. Mark 3: 32—35. Luke 11: 27, 28. 

2 [See a lengthened examination of this topic in Reinhard's Plan, Part 
II.— Tr.] 



406 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



and unlike every other, has yet no such eccentric or peculiar fea- 
ture, as results from a disproportional combination of the inward 
faculties. On the contrary, there is in his nature the most perfect 
harmony and completeness ; and his acts bear the stamp of univer- 
sal propriety and rectitude. Who can say, that the peculiar charac- 
teristic of Jesus was soundness of judgment, or tenderness of feel- 
ing, or richness of fancy, or power of execution ? But all these ex- 
cellences are found in him, just in their due proportion, and they 
work together in uninterrupted harmony. 1 High fervor and gra- 

1 It seems to us altogether erroneous, to ascribe a temperament to Jesus 
in the ordinary sense of that word ; as is done at large by Winkler, for ex- 
ample, in his Psychography of Jesus, p. 122 seq. He makes the Saviour to be 
a man of the choleric temperament, and remarks : !: The choleric (choleriker r 
bilious) temperament is that of every great mind. If any mind be destitute 
of it, then it is a mind within itself, but not out of itself (!) ; it has a power 
for investigation, but wants elasticity of action, etc.'* A temperament al- 
ways indicates a certain disproportion in the mingling of the internal power*, 
a preponderance of one part of the mental dispositions over another ; but 
this was not the case with Jesus, for in him was found the purest tempera- 
mentum, in the old sense of that word ; a thoroughly harmonious combina- 
tion ; a just, sound proportion of all powers and dispositions. 

[tt may be worthy of a quere, in passing, whether the popular apprehen- 
sion of the Messiah does not deny him this completeness of character, and 
attach to him those excellences only which belong to a particular tempera- 
ment, and are peculiarly appropriate to one of the sexes. Does not the tone 
of authority which Christ sometimes employed, of severe reproof, of high- 
minded indignation, conflict somewhat with the prevailing ideas of his pre- 
dominant virtues ? Has not a partial view of his character, combined with 
an unfounded interpretation of certain passages of Scripture, led many ficti- 
tious writers, and many painters, both ancient and modern, to represent 
Christ's personal appearance as more effeminate than we need suppose it 
to have been ? (We have indeed no means of determining what his personal 
appearance was, but from such passages as Luke 4: 15—30. Mark 11: 12 — 
19. John 18: 6, etc., we cannot think it so destitute of the manly, as it is of- 
ten represented). Is not the same one-sided view which is often taken of 
Christ's personal character, taken also of his Gospel ? The prevalent idea 
of the evangelical system is expressed perhaps in Paley's Evidences, Works, 
Vol. II. pp. 175, 176. Cam. Ed., but the representation there given will cer- 
tainly not explain some of the phenomena in the conduct and the teachings 
of Christ and his apostles. To this habit of diverting the attention from the 
whole of Christ's excellences to one particular class of them, may be as- 
cribed in part the disrepute into which several of the sterner virtues have 
sometimes fallen, and the association of something unchristian with all acts 
of self-defence. The remarks of such writers as Dymond, on War, Litiga- 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 407 

cious mildness ; heavenly serenity and absorbing sadness ; elevation 
above earthly pleasures and conditions, and a pure cheerful enjoy- 
ment of the same ; regal dignity and self-denying humbleness ; vehe- 
ment hatred toward sin and affectionate forbearance toward the sin- 
ner, — a u these qualities are combined in his nature in one insepara- 
ble whole, in the most perfect unison ; and they leave on the spec- 
tator the lingering idea of peace and perfect subordination. Never 
was Jesus driven out of his own path ; it was a quiet path, and al- 
ways even. All the manifestations of his spiritual life have one 
great aim ; his whole character has a unity that is perfect, com- 
plete within itself. This unity and completeness in the spiritual life 
of Jesus depends on the unity of the principle from which all his 
manifestations of feeling proceed, by which they are pervaded and 
animated. And this principle is not in any respect the abstract mo- 
ral law ; not in any respect, a mere endeavor, in conformity with the 
judgment, to act right and perform duty ; but it is the simple, great, 
fundamental purpose, born out of free-hearted love, to do the will of 
God. It is apparent from multiplied expressions of Jesus, and from 
all his acts, that the will of his Father, which he was entirely cer- 
tain that he perfectly understood, was the only rule and the living 
power of his conduct. To God, as the source of his spiritual life, 
was his soul ever turned ; and this direction of his mind was a mat- 
ter of indispensable necessity to him. It was his meat and his drink 
to do the will of the Father. Without uniting himself to God wholly, 
consecrating himself to God unreservedly, feeling himself to be per- 
fectly one with God, he could not have lived ; he could not have 
been at peace in his spirit a single instant. By this means, the mo- 
tion, etc., in his Ess. on Mor. pp. 125—128. 404— 424, etc., exhibit a kind of 
emasculated pr/nciple, which would have shrunk back from making " a 
scourge of small cords." As in listening to a choir of music, we choose to 
perceive the harmony of the whole choir, rather than the prominence of one 
particular voice ; as in viewing a monument of architecture, we choose to 
see a due proportion in the whole, rather than a protuberance of one particu- 
lar part, so in surveying the character of Christ, it is more grateful and more 
useful, to notice its symmetry and exquisite balance, than to see any one of 
his virtues disturbed in its nice adjustment and magnified at the expense of 
others. A healthy mind will regard the Saviour as the impersonation of all 
the excellences duly blended, rather than as one who allows an individual 
excellence to transcend its line of proportion, and to assume the character, 
which has been assigned by the poet to a " virtue out of place."— Tr.] 



408 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



rality of Jesus became perfectly religions ; it was not merely some- 
thing which flowed from a sense of duty, it was a holy sentiment of 
ihe heart. 

It is indeed true, as a saint who knew Christianity from the life, 
once said in his heart-winning way, 1 " One might well consent to 
be branded and broken on the wheel, merely for the idea of such a 
character as Christ's ; and if any one should be able to mock and 
deride, he must be insane. Every man, whose heart is in the right 
state, will lie in the dust, and rejoice, and adore." It is true ; even 
as a bare idea, the spiritual image of Jesus, which the Bible holds 
out to us, is the most dignified and the most precious, which is known 
to our race. It is an idea, for which one may well be justified 
in offering up his life. For, we may boldly assert, this idea is the 
most sublime to which, in the province of morality and religion, the 
human mind has been raised. It is the jewel of humanity, and 
whoever knowingly tarnishes or disfigures it, commits an outrage 
against the majesty of the heaven-born soul of man, in its most 
beauteous manifestations. Let it be a fable, it is still the most 
noble truth, which has been either received or communicated by 
the human mind, and preponderates, even as a fable, over a thou- 
sand verities of ordinary experience. But it is not a fable ; it is not 
a bare idea ; for the man who was able to produce, from his own in- 
vention, such a character, such a pattern, must himself have posses- 
sed this greatness of soul, if we deny that he observed it in another. 
We must transfer the spiritual and moral greatness of Jesus to his 
biographer, if we deny it to himself. 2 If we glance at the greatest 
characters which have been exquisitely portrayed to us by the 
creative power and art of the most gifted poets, do we find in these 

1 The Wandsbeck Messenger, in the excellent letters to Andres, Letter I. 

2 [The reader will perceive that this is the same idea with that of Rousseau 
in his celebrated eulogium on the character of Christ. May not a man, 
some will ask, conceive of virtues which he does not practise, and imagine 
an excellence of character far above that which he will ever attain ? That 
such an operation does not exceed the original powers of the mind, Ullmann 
would be willing to admit ; but he intends to deny strongly, that men like 
the evangelists would in fact have ever originated the idea of a character like 
Christ's, and to maintain that such an operation would be as contrary to the 
usual processes of the mind, as if it exceeded the constitutional capacity. 
The moral wonder in the one case would be as improbable as the natural 
miracle in the other. — Tr ] 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



409 



characters anything like that which is developed in Jesus ? And 
these plain, uncultivated, Jewish evangelists, they forsooth desired to 
invent such a character ! they forsooth were able to invent it ! How 
far, as an unaided man, did each of these writers of Memorabilia 
stand below Xenophon and Plato ; and yet how high, in its silent 
majesty, stands the simple image of Jesus, which the unlettered 
evangelists present, above the character that is given to the wisest 
Greeks by the two masters of language and rhetoric ! 



SECTION V. 

Two objections to the reception of the apostles' testimony respecting the 
sinlessness of Christ, stated and answered. — Testimony of Christ himself 
respecting his own sinlessness — Particular explanation of some expres- 
sions which he used concerning himself. — Objections to Christ's testimony 
stated and answered. 

If then we cannot deny that the apostles, with entire unanimity, 
supposed Jesus to possess a nature perfectly sinless and holy, and 
that they gave, as evidence of the correctness of their supposition, 
a most vivid and true history of his unimpeachable deportment, we 
are still met by another objection which needs to be briefly consid- 
ered. It is said for instance, " that in the nature of the case, the 
testimony of the apostles concerning Jesus, so far as they give it as 
a result of their own observation, must be merely negative ; it must 
be merely, that they knew no sin which he had committed. For, in 
the first place, they knew Jesus only during the three years of his 
public office as a teacher, but not during his earlier life ; in the se- 
cond place, the moral worth of actions depends on the motive which 
determines them, and which can be judged of only by God." 1 

As to the first objection, that the acquaintance of the apostles 
with the mind and conduct of Jesus, was limited to the period of his 
public ministry, and that they could not have known what moral 

1 This train of thought is pursued by Weber, in the Programma above 
mentioned : Virtutis Jesu lntegritas neque ex ipsius Professionibus, neque 
ex Actionibus doceri potest. Viteb.1796. Bretschneider coincides with him, 
Dogmatik. § 138. 

52 



410 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



errors he may have committed during the thirty years preceding ; 
this, in our judgment, presupposes an incorrect idea respecting the 
general development of moral qualities. This development should al- 
ways be viewed as a growing whole, its parts dependent on each other ; 
and though great crises, though sudden and extraordinary changes 
may take place in the same individual, still the earlier moral con- 
dition will transmit its influence to the later. Particularly the earlier 
sins cannot be so absolutely effaced, that traces and effects of them 
will not be found afterward in the moral consciousness, in the feel- 
ing, in the conduct. Every sin has its moral influences, 1 the con- 
science is stained by it, and prevented from raising itself to that 
state of perfect innocence, purity and safety which according to the 
Scriptures must be supposed to have been the state of Jesus. We 
must either entirely deny, that the testimony of the apostles con- 
cerning the excellence of Christ's feeling and conduct is valid, or, if 
we admit its validity in respect to the years of their intimate inter- 
course, we must deduce from it the positive inference that his earlier 
life was also free from sin. 2 The developments of those three years 
were merely the result of his earlier life, and cannot be separated 
from it arbitrarily. Such fruit, as the moral conduct of Jesus, so far 
as we know it, could grow only from a root thoroughly healthy and 
sound ; and if a part of his conduct was actually perfect, then the 
whole must have been. 

We will now consider the second objection, which is, that the 
apostles could judge of nothing but the outward legality of Christ's 
deportment, and could not decide upon its internal morality, since 
this depends upon feeling and motive. It is indeed true that 

1 Very apt and profound remarks on this subject may be found in Schleier- 
macher's writings, particularly in the fourth of his Fesst-day Sermons, p. 95 
seq. We beg that the whole of this sermon, very weighty as a doctrinal 
one, may be compared with our own views. 

2 If the reader, in addition to this, desires express testimony in favor of the 
earlier period of Christ's life, we may adduce the very important expressions 
of John the Baptist. That there was an early intimacy between Jesus and 
John, seems to me in the highest degree probable, (the words, 1 knew him 
not, John 1: 31, 33, referring merely to the full recognition of him as the 
Messiah) ; and if this be admitted, then the refusal of John to baptize Jesus, 
his modest retirement at the public appearance of Jesus, in short his whole 
connection with the Messiah, is a most important and decisive argument for 
Christ's extraordinary moral elevation in this earlier period of his life. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



411 



they could not, as the All- Wise, look directly into his heart ; but 
what is the life other than a representation and development of the 
spirit ? and can we satisfactorily account for such a perfect moral 
life, otherwise than on the ground of a perfect moral intention ? such 
pure conduct otherwise than on the ground of pure motive ? Shall 
we derive purity from impurity, goodness from badness ? Or what 
one act in the life of Jesus is fitted to encourage the suspicion, that 
he may at any time have been merely legal in his outward de- 
meanor, without being truly moral ? that there may have been a 
discordance between his feeling and his conduct P 1 But if, since we 
have not the least reason for thinking otherwise, the inward and the 
outward, the feeling and the conduct, the motive and the deed were 
in Jesus one harmonious whole, then the apostles had a right, and 
we have the same, to argue from the perfect goodness of the con- 
duct, to the perfect purity of the motive from which the conduct 
emanated. 

But should our minds still hesitate, they will be convinced by 
Christ's own testimony respecting himself, which is of the highest 
importance. We may rely upon the most entire self-knowledge and 
veracity of Jesus, on the one hand, and upon his great humility on 
the other ; yea, unless we would introduce into his spiritual and mo- 
ral nature contradictions, which cannot be proved to exist, we are 
compelled to attribute to him these qualities. Now this same Jesus, 
in life and in death a man of truth, a pattern of the purest humility, 
comes forth with the highest and clearest confidence in his own char- 
acter, and utters respecting himself these peculiar words, 4 Who can 
accuse me of sin ?' 2 — words which indeed no other mortal without 
revolting arrogance can repeat after him, and which no other one 
has repeated, unless it be in frantic fanaticism, or in the most melan- 
choly infatuation. Indeed conscience and the law of nature oblige 
every one to confess his sin ; and still more under the christian sys- 
tem, which develops so clearly the idea of a holy God, and the exam- 
ple of a Redeemer, and the perfect purity of a moral law, must the 

» « It is the dictate of justice, says Kant, that the irreproachable example of 
a teacher, in respect to that which he teaches, especially if this example is a 
duty for every man, be ascribed to no other than the most obvious motive, 
unless there be evidence of some other." Is there any such evidence in the 
case of Jesus ? 

5 John 8: 46. 



412 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



conviction of sin be deepened in the greatest degree. And accord- 
ingly the same John, who reported to us that remarkable expres- 
sion of Jesus, could with undoubted justice declare, " If we say we 
have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." 1 From 
this declaration, applicable to all men, confirmed by every one's in- 
most consciousness, Jesus represents himself as an exception ; he 
denies that any one can accuse him of u/uagjia. The meaning of 
this expression is somewhat doubtful. It is a question, whether 
a^aQjia is to be taken in the ordinary New Testament sense, as sin 
properly so called, as moral delinquency ; or rather, according to pure 
Greek usage, as theoretical departure from truth, as error. The last 
signification seems indeed, at first glance, to coincide more exactly 
with the context, and particularly to form a more striking contrast to 
the preceding aXi^eLa, and the succeeding aXn&uav Xeynv. But in 
the first place, it would be difficult to point out a decided instance 
of this use of the word in the Hebrew Greek ; and in the second 
place, we are bound especially to consider, that in the whole passage 
the knowledge and reception of the truth (v. 47), as well as the re- 
jection of it (v. 44), is placed in most intimate connection with the 
moral state of the soul. According to this last idea then, the appeal 
of Jesus to the perfect purity and faultlessness of his moral charac- 
ter, for establishing the truth of his doctrine, would be in no way 
disconnected and isolated. So far from it indeed, there lies at the 
foundation of the whole passage the sound principle, that as untruth 
and error proceed from a sinful bias of the will, so the clear apprehen- 
sion of truth is most intimately connected with exemption from sin, 
and indeed is absolutely dependent upon it. Should there be also 
in the word a^aorZu 2 a reference to theoretical error, still Jesus cer- 
tainly asserted his faultlessness in knowledge, only so far as he at the 
same time asserted his faultlessness of will, only so far as he attributed 
to himself the dvai ix tou &mv in the most eminent sense, that is, 
the most perfect connection with God. In each interpretation of the 
passage then, freedom from sin is directly implied. 

The same elevation of the moral consciousness, and the sure con- 
viction of perfect freedom from sin are equally evident in other ex- 
pressions of Jesus ; not only in those where he designates himself 

1 See John 1: 8. and, upon this passage. Lucke. IJi. pp. 98 — 100. 

2 Some translate the words, perhaps most fitly, who can accuse me of a 
failing, in which expression there is also a double reference to the practical 
and the theoretical. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 413 

as the Messiah, but chiefly in those passages of weighty import, 
where he says, " I and my Father are one ;" " whoso seeth me, 
seeth the Father." 1 We are not of the opinion, that there can be 
derived from the oneness with the Father which is asserted in the 
first of these passages, the metaphysical idea of oneness of essence, 
and the whole doctrine of the church concerning the ofiooviria 2 of 
the Son with the Father ; yet we should be equally unwilling to lim- 
it the expression to a bare moral agreement. We would, in accord- 
ance with the most excellent interpreters, both of ancient and modern 
times, refer it immediately to the oneness of power, which the Son 
has with the Father. And yet oneness of will is necessarily involv- 
ed in this ; for in no respect can there be an entire oneness of ra- 
tional nature with God, except so far as it is obtained by oneness of 
will. But wherever there is oneness with the divine will, there must 
also be, of necessity, perfect freedom from sin. " For how can he, 
in whom there is only the faintest trace of sin remaining, say that he 
is one with the Father, the Father of light, him who only is good 
and pure, and to whom everything approximates, only so far as it 
partakes of goodness and purity." 3 Indeed sin is a departure, a 
separation from God, a turning away of the creature from his holy 
Creator ; 4 but where oneness with God is asserted, sin is at the same 
time absolutely denied. So is it with the words, " Whoso seeth me, 
seeth the Father ;" they are certainly not to be limited to this, that 
we find something God-like in Jesus, as we can also find it, though 
connected with imperfection and sin, in every other man ; but they 
are to be understood in a far higher, fuller sense, that Jesus is spir- 
itually and morally an image of God, the resplendence of the Majes- 
ty on high, the expression of the divine nature within the restrictions 
of a human life. No man who is not perfectly good and pure can be 

1 John 10: 30. 14: 9. 

2 [Ullmann here refers to the doctrine of Christ's essential oneness with 
the Father, which was discussed so earnestly during the Arian contests : 
Ofioov'oiog denoting that Christ has the same nature. 6/ioio> oiog denoting that 
he has a similar nature, and avo/noiog that he has a dissimilar nature with 
the Father.— Tr.] 

3 Schleiermacher's Feast-day Sermons, Vol. I. p. 97. 

4 Gregory of Nyssa says, " Sin is estrangement from God, who is the true 
and the only life." And Chrysostom : " He that sins is far from God, not 
in place but in disposition." More of the like passages are to be found in 
Suicer, Thesaurus Eccl. I. p. 209. 



414 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



called a spiritual image of God. Where sin is in the heart, the man 
is not holy ; where the man is holy, sin is not in the heart. 

It is a matter, then, of not the smallest doubt, that Jesus ascribed 
to himself entire sinlessness, holiness, and thereby elevation above 
all mortals. 1 If we will not receive the peculiarly noble testimony 
which Jesus gives of himself, if we will not in simplicity confide in 
his high declarations ; there is left us nothing but the fearful 
alternative of declaring him a visionary, or an impostor. There are 

1 The question here arises, whether such remarks of Jesus as are quoted 
above, are not contradicted by the passage, Matt. 19: 16, 17, where, in reply 
to the question of the young man, Good master, etc., Jesus says," Why call- 
est thou me good, there is none good but one, that is, God." By this remark, 
Jesus seems to decline receiving the epithet good, without qualification. 
We will not avail ourselves of the different reading of this passage, by the 
adoption of which the difficulty is removed ; since it is but too evident, that 
this new reading originated in the design of removing from the passage its 
apparently offensive features ; and at all events the same expression of Jesus 
must still remain in the parallel passages, Mark 10: 18. Luke 18: 19. But 
the contradiction is removed, when we properly consider the circumstances 
and the relation in which the words of Jesus were spoken. He was convers- 
ing with a man, who, although striving after goodness, was yet accustomed 
to entertain the common pharisaical ideas of virtue, and was not a little sat- 
isfied with his own perfect obedience to the law. This is seen by his asking, 
v. 20, "What lack I 3'et ?" In this situation, it became necessary to teach him, 
first of all, a humbling lesson of self-knowledge. Jesus does this directly 
by his own example ; by declining the title of good master, as it was mis- 
used by pharisaical pride, and by directing the inquirer, in the most signifi- 
cant way, to the ideal of all goodness and holiness, to the only fountain of 
all goodness, to God. But the young man was not brought to a knowledge 
of himself by the deep signification of these words, and therefore the heart- 
searching teacher took a yet stronger hold of his conscience, by demanding 
of him a sacrifice, on which his imagined virtue was wrecked. Thus is the 
apparent offensiveness of the passage removed by reflecting on its connec- 
tions. Jesus is exhibited in it as a living, instructive image of humility ; he 
does not deny that he is good, he only refuses to be called so, in the style of 
pompous ceremony. Why callest thou me good, he asks ; and, speaking as 
a man on a level with his inquirer, and filled with holy reverence for God, 
he directs the man to Him, who, in the highest sense of the term, is the on- 
ly good one, the holy one, the fountain of all goodness. In so far, however, 
as Jesus is not separate from God in a moral point of view, but one with 
him, he cannot deny that he is purely good. He constantly derives his 
goodness however, from the Father, the fountain of holiness. It were well 
for the reader to consult on this passage, Grotius, and the remarks quoted 
by him from the older theologians. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



415 



but two suppositions which we can make, and one of them we must 
defend. The first is, that Jesus was not very especially punctilious 
in discriminating good from evil, that he had not searched into all 
the recesses of his own heart, had not known all the movings of his 
will, had not rigorously examined all the words and actions of his 
life, and must therefore have been in a mere self-delusion, when he 
uttered these lofty expressions. But how can this be conceivable in 
a mind, which in other respects distinguished between good and evil 
with unequalled precision ; which reflected upon God and man so 
clearly and purely ; which looked through all men, even to their 
inmost recesses, and on all moral subjects felt with such inexpressi- 
ble tenderness and delicacy ? Must he not have known directly his 
own self? No other man, even the most contracted, whose moral 
sensibilities were most imperfectly developed, would entertain a sin- 
gle doubt on the question, whether he had sinned during his life ; 
and if Jesus had sinned, could he have been ignorant of the fact ? 
could he, in fanatical delirium, have exalted himself into a saint ? — 
Or, if this first supposition fail, we must take the second, that Jesus 
was inwardly conscious of some transgression of the divine law in 
thought, word or deed, and yet testified to the opposite in unambigu- 
ous language. But what man could undertake to defend the posi- 
tion, that he who had labored, in all the scenes of his life, merely for 
the purest conviction, and who at last died on the cross for the truth, 
was an impostor, a mere pretender to holiness ? 

Since then, by the former and the latter of these suppositions, we 
lose ourselves in an unreasonable contradiction, we choose to con- 
fide in the simple testimony of that most judicious thinker, and mag- 
nanimous witness of the truth, even though the testimony cannot be 
demonstrably verified by mathematical proof. Many of the noblest 
spiritual blessings that we possess, we obtain and enjoy only by a 
free spiritual confidence ; by faith, 1 which can well be justified as 
something rational, but cannot be forced upon us by argument. And 
indeed, he is worthy of this confidence from us, whose whole activi- 
ty for our salvation sprung from his most cheering confidence in the 
susceptibility of our nature for improvement. Nothing but the cer- 

1 It scarcely needs to be remarked, that here we are not speaking of faith 
in its restricted sense, of the itioxis which Paul describes; but of the moral 
faith in the purity and divinity of the spiritual manifestations of Jesus, which 
faith is, or may be a stepping-stone to the Ttlong, distinctively so called. 



416 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



tainty, that the nature of man, weak and degenerate though it be, yet 
at the same time kindred with the Divinity, is susceptible of even the 
highest elevation, could animate him to begin his work for the moral 
advancement of mankind ; and nothing but the firm confidence, that 
heavenly virtue would at last triumph among men, could strengthen 
him to persevere unto the end, while experiences, the most bitter, 
seemed to announce the failure of his great schemes. Of all mor- 
tals, not one has found such malevolent opposition to such noble en- 
deavors ; not one has had stronger outward temptations to give up 
all faith for mankind, and not one has clung to this faith with so holy 
an enthusiasm, even to the latest breath of life. On the very tree, 
upon which men crucified him, he did not despair of their improve- 
ment, and even his last supplication was a testimony to the same in- 
extinguishable confidence. As he confided in our moral progress, 
so we can approach him only with unmingled confidence in himself; 
and as all trust and all love is a perfectly free product of a noble 
sentiment, raising itself above the hesitation of the vulgar, so also is 
the spiritual faith in Jesus. It demands elevation of soul, full enthu- 
siasm for the divine excellence and beauty which are conspicuous 
in the words and deeds of Jesus, a warm-hearted, confiding sympa- 
thy with the love that is shown to us in him. 



SECTION VI. 

The effects, produced by Jesus, prove the excellence of his character. — Ef- 
fects produced on Paul, on other individuals, on whole communities. — 
Necessity that the idea of perfect excellence should have a realization. — 
Mode in which the excellence of Christ's character affects our own. — The 
bare idea of Christ insufficient to reform men. — The idea of perfect excel- 
lence presupposes an archetype.— The realization of this idea peculiar to 
the christian history. — Ethical sytern of Christ. 

Let us now turn our attention to still other arguments, which tend 
to establish the certainty of the perfect holiness of Jesus. In the 
first place, we may reason from what Jesus did to what he was. 
Such deeds as his have never yet been performed by a human be- 
ing ; the motive-power then, from which they originated, must be 
altogether peculiar in its kind. The view, which we are taking, 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



417 



requires only a brief notice of what he did in the moral world. We 
here see, that it was a new spiritual creation which came forth from 
the fulness of his quickening spirit, and that he established a system 
which from its indwelling energy works on forever. There can be 
no doubt that Christianity, in this view, can boldly confront every other 
philosophical system, or religious institution, and maintain the pre- 
eminence ; for wherever it has prevailed in its true spirit, it has 
really and fundamentally transformed men, communities as well as 
individuals, from bad to good. 

We can here say but little. One example of the creative moral 
power of Christianity upon an individual is the apostle Paul. His 
whole nature was truly an immediate production of the spirit of 
Christ, so that he could say, ' I live ; yet not I, but Christ liveth in 
me.' When we contemplate this man, as full of impassioned effi- 
ciency and yet full of cool discretion, he is restlessly at work for a 
spiritual object ; as he couples vigorous earnestness and manly 
strength with the tenderest mildness ; as his deep spirit overflows 
with love, yet without becoming soft and weak ; as he is able to ac- 
commodate himself to all conditions, bear all things, hope for all 
things, joyfully deny himself all things, even such as are lawful ; as 
he lets his own personal interest fade entirely from his view, so that 
he may labor for the invisible kingdom of God, and live for a cruci- 
fied man, who was rejected by the world, and yet in the knowledge 
of whom he had found the highest good, and would willingly impart 
this good to all men ; when we thus contemplate him, we cannot de- 
ny, that he was one of the greatest, most efficient, most spiritual 
men, who have ever stepped foot on the earth. And when we con- 
sider how wild, fanatical, eager to persecute, narrow-hearted, and 
Pharisaical he had previously been, we see represented most vividly 
in him, the true import of being made by Christianity a new creature, 
and we must wonder, in the highest degree, at the moral power of 
the Gospel. To Paul are to be added the other apostles, all harmo- 
nizing in essential feelings, yet all retaining their natural peculiari- 
ties ; and after them Origen, Chrysostom, Augustine, Huss, Lu- 
ther, Zuinglius, Melancthon, Fenelon, Spener, and many other no- 
ble, sanctified spirits, persecuted witnesses of the truth, champions 
for the divine prerogative, and for true freedom ; who, each in his 
own way, according to his own individuality, exhibited in its living 
power, the everlasting spirit of the christian system. 
53 



418 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



And as upon the individual, so has Christianity operated most 
benignantly upon the mass. It has everywhere softened the man- 
ners, and elevated the domestic and public relations ; it has given to 
sense a direction to the invisible, and a sure holding-point upon the 
eternal. It has introduced into life the idea of humanity, and the 
recognition of human worth ; it has abolished or at least equalized the 
wide distinctions of caste, class, and nation ; it has increased to an 
almost indefinite extent the interest of man in man ; it has united all 
its adherents with the spiritual family bonds of uncorrupted humanity ; 
has established a covenant, invisible, but so much the more inwardly 
and closely binding, between the souls of men ; and by providing 
that God be served morally, in spirit and in truth, it has destroyed, 
in the root and forever, the service of nature, the dependence on ex- 
ternal forms, and the religion of bare law. But all these and 
numerous other influences of the Christian system proceed at first 
from one central point : and this is none other than the manifesta- 
tion that Jesus made of his inward character ; x he being purely good 
and holy, the ever animating, creative image of moral perfection. 
For although we are far from desiring to place in the shade the high 
importance and utility of Christ's instructions, and especially of the 
moral part of them, yet we cannot deny, after an unprejudiced 
historical examination, that the most peculiar and the deepest moral 
influences of Christianity must be traced back directly to the person 
of Jesus ; and that his teaching had its true power and full meaning, 
only in inseparable connection with his personal character. 2 In this 
respect also, as in so many others, there is in Christianity a pre- 
eminence worthy of its divine original, — it reveals its purest ideas 
and most elevated principles in combination with its facts ; it connects 

1 [This manifestation of Christ's character includes all his acts, and em- 
phatically that act, by which the atonement was made. — Tr.] 

2 Luther says, indeed, in the preface to his Translation of the New Testa- 
ment : " If 1 were obliged to give up one of these two, the works or the 
discourses of Jesus, I would give up the works more willingly than the dis- 
courses ; for the works help me not, but, as himself says, his words, they 
give life." But the actively devoted Luther would surely not have been 
able to spare the life of Christ ; we can no more part with the one than with 
the other ; the words contain light, the works have the power ; the word 
without the work would be inefficient, the work without the word would be 
unintelligible ; both are requisite for the production of true christian life, 
and therefore both are exhibited in the Bible. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



419 



together, in the most fitting way, the ideal and the realization of it ; 
it exhibits a spirit and at the same time a living incarnation of that 
spirit. Not theory, but life, produces life. The noblest christian 
characters have not been formed by the rules of the Gospel, so 
much as by receiving into themselves the life of Christ, as it is por- 
trayed in historical" reality, and in fulness of spiritual power ; so 
much as by living in Christ, becoming like him, having him, as the 
apostle says, 1 formed within them. 2 This is the essential thing, that 
Jesus not only taught, but also exhibited a truly God-like character, 
and from this central point of his spiritual nature, which was 
perfect as a pattern, and yet historically real, from this representa- 
tion of divinity in uncorrupted humanity, there streams forth on all 
sides power and life ; a fresh spiritual motion extends itself over our 
race, in ever widening circles. If we take away this fountain, the 
perfect holiness and uncontaminated purity of the life of Jesus, then 
the moral influences of his religion become perfectly inexplicable 
to us ; there would be an extraordinary effect without a sufficient 
cause ; actually new life sprung from a bare semblance of life ; the 
noblest truth originating from a fancy : the historical establishment 
of Christianity would be unaccountable, and the whole noble struc- 
ture would rest on a hollow base. As these things cannot be ra- 
tionally admitted, so that central point, the perfect purity and holi- 
ness of Christ's character, must be considered as an historical reality, 
as true and undeniable. Thus the existence of the christian church, 
together with the good which is done in it and by it, testifies for the 
holiness of its founder. 

This we can the more positively assert, because the moral in- 
fluence of Christianity still extends to us, and because our own in- 
ward experience springs from that energetic power, which works at 
the very heart of the christian system, and which consists in the 
character of the Messiah. Indeed essentially the same influences, 
which were exerted eighteen hundred years ago, are still exerted 
upon us by the spirit and the life of Jesus ; and they must be exerted, 
for otherwise there would be no oneness in the nature of Christianity, 
no inward coherence in the company of Christians, and the agency 
of Jesus would have no truly universal characteristics. Redemption 

1 [See this idea more fully illustrated inErskine on Int. Evid., particularly 
Sections III. IV.— Tr.] 

5 [Gal. 4: 19, also Col. 1: 27, and perhaps Col. 3: 10.— Tr.] 



420 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



cannot have been a different thing with the apostles, from what it is 
with us ; the redeeming power must therefore be ever the same in 
its influence. It was not the bare teaching, nor the bare death of 
Jesus, but in inseparable connection with both, his redeeming, that 
is, his spiritually emancipating life, which was efficacious in the 
days of the apostles. We must therefore conclude that the simple 
and artless scriptural exhibition of this life, from which the spirit of 
Christ breathes upon us, will exert the same influence upon our 
minds, which the personal observation of it exerted upon his disciples 
and their contemporaries. We of course include under the life of 
Jesus, the circumstances of his death, in the signiflcancy which is 
assigned to that death by Jesus himself and the apostles, as the close 
of his redeeming life, and as absolutely essential for completing the 
work of redemption. The mode in which this life operates upon us 
is the same now as it was at first ; it is essentially the following. 
By a trustful meditation upon the whole character of Jesus, and by 
applying it to our own moral and religious nature, we are in the 
first place, brought to a knowledge of our great distance from 
Christ, and to a severe condemnation of our moral state. In the 
next place, we are lifted up above the feeling of our sins and defi- 
ciencies ; freed from the painful consciousness of guilt, which sepa- 
rates us from God, the Holy One ; brought into a most intimate 
connection with an all-loving Father ; and filled with new strength 
for a better life, by the consciousness of a pure, divinely imparted 
freedom, of a serene peace within our own hearts. This power, 
which can emancipate our wills, which can elevate and compose, 
which in fine can redeem, is possessed by no other object ; by no 
word, no doctrine, no idea, no moral exhibition, even of the most 
noble and excellent kind ; but only by the life and works of Jesus, 
considered as a whole. Depending however on the development of 
Christ's character, and attested by the experience of every Christian, 
the power is necessarily derived and inseparable from the unspotted 
holiness of the Messiah's conduct. None but a nature which stands 
before us in full purity, can exercise over us this spiritual influence ; 
none but he, in whom the truth itself, which emancipates the soul, 
has at the same time been exhibited as perfect virtue, and has tri- 
umphed spiritually over all opposition, can make us thoroughly free ; 
only one, elevated above us, and above sin, can elevate us above 
ourselves and above sin ; only by the most intimate communion of 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



421 



our souls with a holy being, can the power of holiness live and con- 
stantly strengthen within us, and the power of sin be forever extir- 
pated from our natures. But if we think of Jesus as not morally 
pure, as stained with guilt, then, however small ihe degree of that 
guilt, all these effects cease ; no longer as a Redeemer from sin 
does he satisfy our cravings ; he becomes only a teacher and prophet 
to us ; and that the longing of our souls may be appeased, we must 
wait for another, who may at last exhibit to us a life, fully pure, 
truly pleasing to God and conformed in all respects to the divine 
will. But such a longing desire cannot be felt by one, who has 
actually known Jesus ; he finds himself really emancipated, renewed, 
fully comforted by the Saviour ; he possesses in Jesus everything 
which can supply his spiritual wants. His belief, then, in the un- 
spotted holiness of Christ must involve a strong assurance ; for with- 
out this sinlessness, Christ could have no power to redeem. As 
certainly as he is our Redeemer, so certainly must he be free from 
all transgression. 

One may indeed reply to this, that the bare idea of a sinless and 
holy life would produce the same effects as the realization of it ; 
more especially since such a life does not now come to us as a mat- 
ter of experience properly, but as a mere conception of the intellect, 
and is thereby presented to us in an ideal form. We will not here 
insist on the fact, that a bare idea never possesses the living power 
of truth, and that faith in the innocency of Jesus produces no effect 
so far as it is faith in an idea, but only so far as it is faith in a matter 
of fact, in the realization of what was conceived. We will say, 
however, that whenever we trace this idea up to its source, we 
always come back again to the matter of fact, to the historical ex- 
hibition ; and, as it has been already proved, the representation of 
Christ's immaculate life did not originate from the previous idea of 
perfect holiness, but this idea originated from the actual previous 
observation of an immaculate life. The general remarks of the 
sacred writers on the perfect virtue of Jesus would lose their peculiar 
power over the feelings, if these writers did not also describe to us, 
in detail, and with such striking, irresistible truth, — if they did not 
even bring into our ideal presence the pure motives and holy con- 
duct of the Messiah. 

If, looking away from any particular case, we fix our attention 
upon the idea of a life entirely pure, holy, and pleasing to God, we 



422 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



shall find it evident, that there is such an idea in our minds ; and 
that, for this very reason, it must, at some stage of moral progress 
develop itself in the minds of all. Even this circumstance assures 
us, that the idea will be also realized ; for every conception, that 
slumbers in our minds, presupposes somewhere and somehow an 
existing object of it, points to a corresponding reality. The idea is 
by no means a bare fancy, a shadow without a substance. 1 All our 
moral efforts depend in fact, whether we are more or less conscious 
of it, upon the idea of perfection ; and everything which we desire 
or do, in the province of morality, has necessary reference to this 
idea. As moral beings, we cannot be without the conviction, that a 
state of feeling and of conduct is possible, in which all the excellen- 
ces that human nature can admit, are united in one inseparable and 
noble whole, and all weaknesses are excluded ; a state which, on 
this account, corresponds perfectly with the will of Him who is the 
only good one ; with the design of God in respect to man ; and 
which, because it presupposes the purest harmony of our existence, 
necessarily includes in itself such elements, as will make our ex- 
istence perfectly blessed. This state, so far as we are in any de- 
gree holy, we always endeavor to attain ; yea, the attainment of it 
is commanded by our consciences. If now, oppressed as we are 
with so many faults and imperfections, internal and external, we 
must despair of reaching this high mark, at least in our present 
course, we may yet hold fast the lively wish to see this perfection 
attained by some related nature, and to see the ideal of sinless vir- 
tue realized. It cannot but afford us the most heartfelt satisfaction 

1 [Such statements as the foregoing seem to be more scholastic than just. 
It is, however, by no means an unimportant thought, that there is a harmony 
between our idea of human perfection, our desire to see it developed, and 
the actual development of it in Christ. The supposition of his perfect vir- 
tue has that peculiar fitness to our intellectual and moral wants, which, if 
not itself an a 'priori argument for the truth of the supposition, may still cor- 
roborate other arguments, as well as predispose the inquirer to receive them. 
Though the German mind is apt to go too far in reasoning from the corres- 
pondences between our inward conceptions or feelings, and certain outward 
events, it may be a question whether the American mind is disposed to go 
far enough. Notice, for example, our general neglect of the moral argu- 
ments for the existence of God, and the immortality of the soul, etc. ; such 
arguments as are founded on the coincidence between these truths, and our 
natural hopes and fears. — Tr.] 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



423 



and joy, if the moral perfection, the agreement of a whole human 
nature with the divine goodness be anywhere exhibited to us in life. 
This is the actual fact in the exhibition of the character of Christ. 
In this character is realized the highest idea of the human spirit, that 
of the purely good. The true and the beautiful cannot indeed be 
separated from such a life ; and yet by its goodness alone a no- 
ble and deep necessity of our nature is satisfied. And as our intel- 
lect demands an exhibition of a perfect religious character, so our 
heart longs after an entirely pure and faultless object of attachment ; 
after an object in which there would be nothing which could, from 
time to time, injure and wound our moral feeling, and thus weaken 
and cloud our love, as all even the best of human love is frequently 
interrupted ; after an object in which the highest feeling of self-sac- 
rificing benevolence is connected with a faultless morality, and which 
must elicit from us a reciprocated attachment, an attachment that is 
pure and debased by no false admixture. This object of truly per- 
fect and unfeigned love we possess in Christ, inasmuch as his reli- 
gious character is unexceptionably pure, and contains nothing which 
can offend our moral consciousness. 1 So then the supposition of 
Christ's unspotted virtue is sustained by the fact, that such a sup- 
position meets our highest spiritual necessities, which without it 
must remain unsatisfied, and that it realizes to man the very thing 
toward which his noblest efforts have been directed, but which he 
cannot produce from his own resources. 

That the idea of an entirely pure moral life is distinctly developed 
by real occurrences, by the historical manifestations of Jesus, that it 
can be developed by nothing else, appears evident from the fact, that 
though the idea was previously slumbering in our minds, yet it was 
never clearly expressed, until Christ's appearance. It is a very re- 
markable truth, that the idea of a holiness which is entirely perfect 
and free from fault, was never entertained in the world before Christ, 
nor in the heathen world, either before or after. 2 One may indeed 

1 Compare Schleiermacher's Christian Feast-day Sermons, Vol. I. pp. 99 
—104. 

* As the idea and the word denoting it are intimately connected, it will 
not be improper to say here something about the expressions 
and dvafid Q T V rog. They are, it is true, established terms in the ancient clas- 
sical style, but do not signify such an entire fulness of moral perfection in 
the classical, as they do in the christian usage. 'Jvctfid^rog means one 



424 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



refer to intimations of this idea, as it is scarcely possible to philoso- 
phize upon ethical subjects without approximating to it ; but the idea 
could not attain a complete development in the heathen world for 
two reasons. First, the heathen intellect had not yet apprehended 
the fundamental principle, to which Christianity raises the mind, 
that virtue is something altogether internal, springing from the pur- 
est love. Secondly, the morality of the ancient pagans was defi- 
cient in its religious features, yea even their religious faith operated 
injuriously upon the moral life. But even if the idea of a perfectly 
pure and holy moral character could be found among the heathen, 
still no example can be adduced, in which this idea was believed to 
be realized in any one person. Such an example would be looked 
for, first of all, in the wisest of the Greeks, in Socrates ; but although 
we have such excellent descriptions of this great man from two re- 

who cannot sin, as well as one who does not actually sin. In the first sense, 
the word is used by Plato, de Republ. 1. JIotcqov Si dva^d^tot slaiv ola?- 
yovreg, ?} oioi rs xal dfxaQtdvuv. Here, from its being opposed to olog d m - 
xdvuv, it is evident that dva^rrjzog involves the impossibility of sinning. 
In the other sense the word is used by Xenophon, '0^ yd Q tojv dv^omojv 
odSeva dvand Q T V Tov Smrdovvra. With the same double signification is 
dva^Trjaia also used by the ancients, and is then translated into the Latin 
by the word, impeccabilitas, (at least Aulus Gellius has the word, impecca- 
bilis), and again by the word, impeccantia, (Jerome). Many passages from 
the ancients may be found collected together in Henr. Stephani Thesaur. 
Ling. Gr. II. p. 1920. ed. Lond.— Among christian authors, we find the ex- 
pression avatiaqxTjoia, at first used by Clement of Alexandria in the sense 
of ceasing, withdrawing from sin, and in this meaning it was applied to the 
moral condition of men in general : Stromat. Lib. II. p. 371. Lib. IV. p. 
482. ^Avaiidqxrjxog, however, is also used by Clement in the stricter sense 
of sinless ; povog dva^dQrrjrog avrog 6 Xoyog ; Paedag. 111. 12. It is, howe- 
ver, used by later christian writers in the sense of absolute freedom from 
sin ; of pure, holy sinlessness ; and in this sense is applied only to God and 
Christ. The Fathers of the church ascribe sinless purity only to God, (lsi- 
dor. Pelus, Epist. Lib. 1. p. 435 ; to dva/ud^rytov fiovov earl &sov), and also 
to Christ, so far as he is partaker of the divine nature. They therefore treat 
of sinlessness as a property, not of the human, but of the divine nature of 
the Redeemer. They also lay great stress on the thought that, without be- 
ing dvafxaQxriTog, Jesus could not have been the Redeemer of mankind. 
For example, Chrysostom in the 38th Homily on the first Epistle to the Co- 
rinthians, says, « He who died for sinners must himself be sinless; for if he 
himself sinned, how could he die for other sinners ?— but if he died for the 
sins of others, he died being sinless himself." Various proofs for what is 
advanced above, may be found in Suiceri Thesaur. Eccles. I. pp. 287, 288. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 

vering pupils, yet neither of these pupils, nor indeed any other one, 
has expressed the opinion, that he was free from all moral failings 
and perfect in all respects. 1 This idea of perfect holiness, as in its 
accurate development, so in the certainty of its having been real- 
ized in human nature, is an excellence that distinguishes Christian- 
ity, not only above heathenism, but also above all other religious and 
philosophical systems. The fact too, that the idea is so accurately 
and clearly developed only in the christian system, proves the histo- 
rical truth of its having been embodied in Christ. If it had sprung 
merely from an attempt to glorify a great man, or the founder of a 
religion, why was not the same representation made elsewhere ? 
And how could it have been made in express reference to Jesus, 
and made with such precision and steadiness, unless there had been 
a sure ground for it in his life ? We cannot resist the belief, that 
he who produced the steadfast conviction upon the minds of his con- 
temporaries, that his virtue was throughout pure and holy, in fact 
was a decidedly perfect man ; and we must look upon the extraor- 
dinary, and to this day undiminished, vital influences of this belief, 
as a testimony in favor of its inward correctness. 

There is yet one more point to be briefly touched. There may 
be adduced, in proof of the sinless character of Jesus, the irreproach- 
able truth and purity of his ethical sy stein. This system is most as- 
suredly of such a character, that it receives its full and unlimited 
confirmation in our own conscience. It is in the principle that ani- 
mates it, and in all its individual parts, so pure and just that it 
must be pronounced unimprovable. But such faultless ethics can 
be the product only of a faultless, unpolluted spirit. From none but 
a healthy root is good fruit obtained ; and as a holy moral sentiment 
pervades the whole gospel, so must it have lived originally in the au- 
thor of that gospel. 



1 The only passage, so far as I know, which can be mentioned in support 
of the contrary position, is one in Xenophon's Memorabilia, Lib. 1. Cap. I. 
§ 11 i; No one ever saw Socrates doing, or heard him saying, anything 
profane or wicked/' But from the whole scope of this apology, and particu- 
larly from what immediately precedes, it is evident that the author is here 
speaking of mere legality, so far as it becomes known by outward acts and 
words, and not of morality in the highest sense of that term. [For the phi- 
losophical distinction between the terms, legality and morality, see note B. 
-Tr.] 

54 



426 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



If we glance over the whole preceding investigation, we shall find 
that the hatred of Christ's enemies, the conduct of those indifferent 
toward him, the acknowledgement of his betrayer, the love and re- 
verence of his friends, a love and reverence inextinguishable and 
sealed with death, and lastly the most noble consciousness which 
Christ had of his own rectitude ; all these are a testimony in favor 
of his spiritual excellence and pure holiness, such as history gives of 
no other man. This testimony is strongly confirmed by the spiritual 
effects, altogether peculiar in kind, which have been wrought by Jesus, 
and which are still exemplified to us in living experience. It is also 
confirmed by the adaptedness of his immaculate character, to the 
noblest and otherwise unsatisfied wants of our mind and heart ; by 
the striking preeminence of the christian, above all other religions; 
and by the stainless purity of the evangelical system of morals. 

There is a doubt, however, which threatens to rob us of the histo- 
rical and well-grounded conviction, that Jesus was strictly sinless. 
The doubt is produced by various objections, which we must now 
clear up thoroughly. Otherwise, we can make no advance with a 
sure step. 



SECTION VII. 

Objections alleged against the character of Christ by his contemporaries. — 
Objections drawn from his cursing the rig-tree ; from his destroying the 
swine ; from his expelling the traders ; from his going up to the feast, 
after he had been understood to decline going ; from the history of the 
temptation. — Various theories in reference to the temptation. 

The objections, first to be considered, which were made by the 
contemporaries of Jesus against his uncorrupted virtue, though we 
would not entirely pass them by, are yet insignificant. Yea more, 
on a narrow inspection, they turn themselves into pleasing proofs of 
the true spirituality and perfectness of his moral life. This is the 
case with the objections, that he would not, like the Pharisees and 
even John the Baptist, zealously fast, and live austerely abstinent, 
but would eat and drink as other men, and was therefore a glutton 
and a wine-bibber ; that he received into his society publicans and 



SIGNLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



427 



sinners, and sat at table with them ; that he could not be from God, 
because he did not keep the Sabbath perfectly, but healed the sick 
on that day, and permitted his disciples to pluck the ears of corn. 

It was in opposition to just such narrow-hearted charges, that 
Christ unfolded, by word and deed, the great principles of a morality, 
that was generous, and that sprung from the fountain of divine love ; 
a morality by which the free-born gospel is raised far, far above 
all moral servitude, and every form of self-righteousness. It was in 
just such circumstances that he found occasion, both to prove the 
serenity, which belongs to a life that is pleasing to God, — a serenity 
that is cheerful, disturbed by no asceticism that pains the body, but 
enjoying all things temperately and thankfully ; and also to com- 
municate and apply those simple instructions of his, which contain 
in an appropriate and individual form elevated and eternal truths. 
I allude, for example, to such instructions as the following ; that true 
morality lies in feeling ; that love is something more than a sacrifice, 
and an outward fulfilling of the law ; that the Sabbath was made for 
man, and not man for the Sabbath ; and more of the like nature. 

In respect also to some other acts of Jesus, which the evangelists 
describe with entire impartiality, and without intimating that they 
might contain anything offensive, every difficulty vanishes as soon as 
we survey the acts from the right point of sight. Thus the proce- 
dure of Jesus, in cursing the fig-tree, 1 has appeared to many to be 
of questionable character ; not so much because he allowed himself 
to make an encroachment upon the property of another man, for no 
one can prove that the tree actually belonged to any one ; but be- 
cause it seems as if Jesus was so much irritated by the impossibility 
of his gratifying the wants of the instant, that he gave vent to his 
rage by cursing an innocent tree. But we shall evidently form a 
very erroneous conception of Jesus, if we think of him as passion- 
ately excited in this transaction. He performed in this, as well as in 
other instances, a deed of cool discretion. He desired to furnish an 
example by word and act. He desired, it may be, as was common 
with him and the orientals generally, to invest his deed with a sym- 
bolical character ; either to make it the means of calling attention, 
at this important time, to the certain ruin of the Jewish nation, which 
was now spiritually unfruitful ; or else, as seems more probable 
from the instructive words which he added, to make the act a re- 

1 Matt. 21: 17—22. Mark 11: 11—26. 



428 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



newed proof, to his friends, of his exalted and perfect power, and a 
new means of strengthening their confidence in himself and God, in 
view of the dangers that threatened. 

It were more reasonable to charge the Saviour with the crime of 
encroaching upon another's property, in that remarkable act which 
he performed within the territoiy of the Gadarenes. 1 The miracle 
of healing, which he wrought here upon one or two demoniacs was 
immediately connected with a loss, more or less important, to the in- 
habitants of the country. Almost every commentator on this pas- 
sage has thought it needful to frame an apology for Jesus ; and, as 
might have been expected, the issue of this has been various, as 
men, in looking at the Messiah, have stood upon a lower or higher 
point of observation. I would hesitate to exculpate the Saviour, as 
most modern commentators do, on the ground of his not foreseeing 
the consequences of his deed. This representation militates against 
the idea which the evangelists give of their Lord. Indeed if we sepa- 
rate from his acts, as far as possible, the character of the extraordi- 
nary, we must at all events leave to them this peculiarity, that they 
were accompanied with an unaccountable fore-sight of their conse- 
quences. Instead of resorting to such an apology, I would make the 
truth so much the more prominent, that Jesus, in this as in all his 
miracles, acted as the representative of the Godhead ; and is to be 
judged, in reference to the act, by different rules from those which 
are binding on us. When God, for high benevolent purposes, destroys 
individual property ; when by lightning, hail, inundation, he ruins 
the estate of one man or many, who can accuse him of unrighteous- 
ness in the matter ? The good of the whole, viewed comprehen- 
sively, demands the destruction, and the arrangement of single 
phenomena is guided by a wisdom infinitely above our thoughts. 
On this elevated position does Jesus stand ; acting with the power of 
Divinity, and with heavenly wisdom. Such a position is not at all 
adapted to encourage scruples for the safety of a few swine, when 
the spiritual and temporal good of rational natures is concerned. 
Should we disdain to allow, however, that Jesus acted from the 
fulness of divine knowledge and authority, then it will be very diffi- 
cult to justify his act, unless we also refuse to allow, what the 
evangelists assert, that he always foresaw the consequences of his 
deeds. 



! Matt. 8: 28—34. Mark 5: 1—20. Luke 8: 26-39. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



429 



If it may be supposed, that Jesus was not passionately excited at 
the cursing of the fig-tree, there is yet another proceeding described 
in the evangelical history, from which the idea of the passionate and 
the violent can scarcely be separated ; viz. the expulsion of the ex- 
changers, the sellers and buyers from the temple-court. 1 This act 
can indeed be colored in such a way, that a character of violence 
altogether peculiar will be impressed upon it. But we have certainly 
no right to do this. It was not the physical force and bodily chastise- 
mentthat Jesus employed, so much as his holy earnestness and high 
personal dignity which gave expressiveness and efficiency to his 
conduct. It was the feeling that he was in the right, and they in the 
wrong, that drove out the traders of the temple. But after all, there 
does remain in this act of Jesus something of excited passion, which 
seems to be in contrast with his former mildness ; and even the 
apostles perceived in this conduct a consuming zeal. 2 But here we 
must introduce the distinction between the anger of a private individ- 
ual, and the noble indignation of one occupying a divine office. 
Jesus stands not as a Jewish Rabbi, before Jewish traders ; but he 
stands as an ambassador from God, as the Messiah, as the purifier 
of the true theocracy, before those who profaned the house of his 
Father. This extraordinary office gave him the right to proceed in 
a way, which needed not to be legitimated by ordinary rules. If 
the doubtful right of zealots (jus zelotarum) were even admitted, it 
would surely not be necessary to appeal to it for the justification of 
the Messiah. " It was the authority and the power of a true prophet, 
whose office it was to correct and chastise ; an office, which at all 
times and among all people, when the temporal relations and the 
ordinary course of existing customs cannot avail to check growing 
corruptions, will be exercised and should be exercised by the higher 
natures who are called to the duty." 3 But such an act, the right 
and duty of Jesus to perform which lay in his office as Messiah, 
could never be performed without a deeply terrifying earnestness, 
and an intensely burning zeal. Such earnestness and such zeal are 

1 Matt. 21:12—14. Mark 11:15—19. Luke 19: 45— 48, compared with 
John 2: 14, 18. 

2 John 2: 17. [Zeal for the honor of God's house hath absorbed me, 
possessed me so thoroughly that I should be willing to sacrifice my life for 
it; consumed, devoured me.— Tr.] 

3 See Liicke's Commentary on this passage, I. pp. 536, and 537. 



430 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



developments of uncorrupted humanity, and of manly greatness. 
Whoever is not susceptible of such an inflammation of mind, so free 
from all mere personal feeling, is not capable of a great action. To 
the pure mind then, Jesus appears to stand, in this act as well as in 
others, upon an unclouded height. 

Finally, some may persuade themselves, that they discover, in the 
Gospel of John, 1 the trace of an untruth, which came from the lips 
of Jesus; and one of the earlier adversaries of Christianity, Por- 
phyry, 2 has not failed to set up, from this passage, an accusation of 
fickleness against the Messiah. Here also we should obtain the 
easiest solution of the difficulty from a variation of the text ; from 
adopting ovno) instead of ov-/.. We are compelled, however, to re- 
fuse this aid ; since it can scarcely be doubted, that this mode of 
reading the passage has been urged, merely for the purpose of re- 
moving a difficulty from it. As a definition of oux, and it was at 
first merely a definition, we may be well satisfied with ovno ; since 
elsewhere, and particularly with John, ovx has the signification of 
not yet. 3 In either case, whether the implied idea of the present 
time lie in this unusual meaning of ov-/., or in the strict designation of 
the present tense in avafialvco, to which verb we may supply vh; we 
are obliged to confine the expression of Jesus to a very limited 
period, including only the present and the immediately succeeding 
future. The words directly following, " my time has not yet come," 
show the necessity of this limitation. Had not the evangelist thus 
understood the words of Jesus, he must himself, at the first glance, 
have marked the striking contradiction between the words and the 
subsequent act, and he would not so obviously have represented 
Jesus as uttering an untruth. To suppose, however, that Jesus in- 
tentionally, from motives of prudence, desired to employ an equivo- 
cal expression would not be in accordance with his character. 

The history of the temptation, 4 in its reference to Christ's pure in- 
nocence, is more difficult to understand, than the subjects hitherto 

1 John 7: 8—10. 

2 The following is the statement of Jerome adv. Pelag. Lib. 11 : if Jesus 
denied that he would go, and then he did ichat he had previously refused to do, 
so Porphyry rails, and accuses Jesus of inconstancy and change." Porphyry 
also must have read pvXj and not ovttoj in the verse. 

3 John 6: 17. Besides this, we may refer to Mark 11: 13, and Ezra 3: 6. 
* Matt. 4: 1—11. Mark 1: 12, 13. Luke 4: 1—13. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



431 



noticed. Although we cannot engage in a copious discussion of this 
part of the evangelical history, we must not omit the brief expression 
of our views respecting it. If we conceive of the temptation as 
something altogether external, so that the words of the devil, whether 
he be supposed to have been Satan or a human tempter, were heard 
by Jesus only with the bodily ear, and, so to speak, were not con- 
veyed into his mind at all ; that the temptation, therefore, did not 
affect him inwardly in the least, but barely glanced upon him, as the 
jet glides off from a smooth and impenetrable rock ; then, to be sure, 
the subject has no difficulty for our present consideration. It is 
equally free from difficulty, if we look upon the narrative as a poeti- 
cal fiction, a fable or a parable. But neither of these views of the 
subject seems to be the right one. 

As to the first view, I for one cannot persuade myself to adopt an 
entirely literal interpretation of the narrative, and to suppose that 
Satan appeared personally and visibly to Jesus, and carried on a con- 
versation with him, every word of which is to be regarded as strictly 
diplomatical. Not insisting on the fact, that such a personal appear- 
ance of the devil is never elsewhere alluded to in the New Testa- 
ment, we are content with saying, that the supposition of such an ap- 
pearance gives to the whole scene, when examined narrowly in its 
particulars, an air of oddity. We are forced to wonder, even as 
much at the manner of the devil's proceeding, which fails altogether 
to exhibit cunning and good sense, as at the unlimited forbearance 
of Jesus, following Satan to the pinnacle of the temple, and then 
again to the mountain. To understand however by the term, devil, 
a mere human tempter, seems to me not more opposed to the use 
of language, when closely examined, than it is forced in the idea it- 
self. 1 As to the supposition, that the narrative is mythical or para- 
bolic, this also, I believe, has more against it than in its favor. That 
the evangelists should commence their account of the distinctively 
Messianic portion of Christ's life directly with a fable, is entirely in- 

1 When I penned the above, I was not aware of the existence of a trea- 
tise on the history of the temptation, in the first and second numbers of the 
Tubingen Theological Quarterly, for the year 1827. This exhibits the most 
plausible view, which can be given of the interpretation that has just been 
rejected. Without entering upon a close examination of it, I content my- 
self with recommending it to the attention of interpreters, as an essay of rich 
literary character, and of acuteness. 



432 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



consistent with their character as writers, and is throughout incredi- 
ble. That the narration, moreover, has in no way the form of a 
parable, and is not carried on as such, every one will allow, who 
candidly compares it with the other parables of the New Testament. 
He will allow it, unless indeed he adopt the most improbable sup- 
position, that the evangelists had so entirely misunderstood a par- 
able of Jesus, not merely in its spirit but also in its form, as to have 
taken it for an historical narration. 

We come, then, to that view of the subject which is the most wor- 
thy to be adopted; which supposes the whole series of the tempta- 
tions to have been really internal, but to have been presented, in the 
description, as external. This view, however, again branches out, 
as we know, into the double form, — that the temptation was a dream, 
a vision or ecstasy ; or else, that it consisted in tempting thoughts, 
during a time of mental clearness and self-possession. The first of 
these forms introduces into the character of Jesus something vision- 
ary and fanatical. This however is incompatible with his cast of 
mind, which, in all other instances, appears to be decidedly clear and 
discreet. It is also without example in all the evangelical histories. 
The remaining form, that of considering the whole as a series of 
tempting thoughts, has indeed its difficulties ; but, as it appears to me, 
they may be solved. That an inward train of thought should be thus 
represented in the outward living form of external deeds, is certainly 
not inconsistent with the oriental, and especially the Hebrew style. 
The particular temptations may very fitly be regarded as tempting 
thoughts, if we will keep in view the main design of the narrative. 
This design was to exhibit the whole scene, as a proving of the Mes- 
siah .; to exhibit Jesus as tempted by the prevailing but false ideas 
about the Messiah, which were presented to his mind, but over which 
his true Messianic spirit triumphed, completely and forever. The 
first temptation consisted in this, that he should perform a miracle 
for his own advantage, and the relief of his animal wants ; the se- 
cond, that he should make a miraculous display, so as to convince 
men of his Messiahship, by overpowering their senses, as it were ; 
the third, that he should found a political Messianic kingdom, and 
maintain his influence over minds by power and authority. All this 
the contemporaries of Jesus might expect from the Messiah, and did 
actually expect. They supposed that he would be invested with ex- 
traordinary powers ; and, in accordance with their secular views, 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



433 



they could not avoid the belief, that he would employ these powers 
immediately for his own advantage, relieving his necessities and ex- 
alting himself. They demanded of him the most surprising mira- 
cles ° wonders from heaven, as they are so often called in the Gos- 
pel. They hoped to see in him, the founder of a temporal king- 
dom ; and to see the visible theocracy reestablished by him, in splen- 
dor and power. This was doubtless the idea which Christ's con- 
temporaries had of the Messiah; and the chief elements of it were 
expressed in the individual acts of the temptation, in a manner true 
to the life. But the holy spirit of a Messiah, which Christ possessed 
in all its fulness, and which in all its power operated within him, 
especially after he was solemnly consecrated in baptism to his office, 
now triumphed victoriously over all his temptations. Even in the 
most urgent necessities he would perform no miracle for his own 
advantage, but with unlimited confidence referred it to the Father, 
to determine the means, which Omnipotence should provide for his 
succor. From the time of his temptation it continued to be the in- 
violable principle of his life, never to employ, for his own benefit, 
the extraordinary powers which were at his command, but to employ 
them for the benefit of others only. He was equally unwilling to 
make any miraculous display ; and though often and urgently en- 
treated to do so, by his degraded and wonder-loving contemporaries, 
he never suffered himself to be persuaded. Finally, he would, least 
of all, establish a temporal kingdom, however alluring may have 
been the prospect of the magnificent results of this course. 1 By 
such an enterprise he would become unfaithful to the holy God, 
would walk in communion with evil, and in subjection to it. In this 
way, then, did the divine idea of a perfectly spiritual Redeemer, la- 
boring for the good of others, and denying himself in all things, go- 
ing about in unostentatious simplicity, and in the form of a servant, 
triumph over the false idea of a Messiah, which, at his entrance upon 
his official course, was suggested temptingly to Jesus, and which 
gave him an opportunity, before he subdued other minds by the 
word of truth and by the power of love, to achieve the noblest spir- 
itual victory within his own soul. 

But this explanation, which our object requires us barely to sug- 
gest, is met by an objection, referring particularly to the statement 
that Jesus was not tempted by anything which came to .him hnrnedi- 

1 John 6: 15. 

55 



434 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



ately from without, but by his own thoughts. The objection has 
been expressed by no one more keenly than by Schleiermacher. 
"If Christ," he says, 1 " even in the slightest degree harbored such 
thoughts, then he is no longer Christ ; and this interpretation appears 
to me to be the vilest neological abuse of Christ's personal character, 
which has appeared." But this interpretation would involve an in- 
jury to Christ, only in case that it could not be adopted without deny- 
ing his perfect parity and holiness. And we should be obliged to 
deny this, if we admitted either that the evil thoughts of the tempta- 
tion were engendered in the soul of Jesus himself,— for so far as his 
soul, of its own choice, originated, even in mere thought, anything 
of evil, it would be indeed stained with sin ; — or if we admitted, that 
the tempting charm was ever effective in determining his will. But 
neither the former, nor the latter branch of this alternative is conce- 
ded by our interpretation. If tempting thoughts did arise even in 
the soul of Jesus, still they were not engendered in it. They were 
the elements of the prevailing idea respecting the Messiah, and this 
idea was an objective reality. 2 The idea could not be unknown to 
Christ, and it was altogether inevitable that it should occur to his 
mind, on some external occasion, as he was now preparing himself 
for his office. He must, at such a time, necessarily consider what 
his contemporaries would expect of him, when he should appear as 
the Messiah. He thought therefore upon this popular expectation, 
the predominant features of which were earthly and wicked, as an 
existing fact. But though a deed be wicked in itself, the thought of 
it is not necessarily wicked. If it were so, then God could not be 
holy ; for he surveys the whole sum of wickedness. It would be a 
very different thing, if this meditation upon evil were accompanied 
with a pleasure participating in the evil and determining the will. 
But this, according to the narration in the Gospels, was not the fact. 
So soon as the tempting thought arose in the soul of Jesus, and ex- 
cited desire, it was thrust down by his pure and strong power of 
choice. 

But even if we regard the temptation as an external occurrence, 
still the objection of Schleiermacher may be substantially urged as 

1 Kritischer Versuch fiber die Schriften des Lucas, p. 54. 

2 [Etwas objectiv gegebenes ; it was not a mere fancy of Christ, but was 
an idea actually existing in the popular mind, and as suck it occurred to him. 
-Tk.] 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



435 



before. Even if it were external, we are yet compelled to believe 
that an inward temptation, one of the thoughts, was connected with 
the outward process ; for otherwise the idea of being tempted is ta- 
ken away altogether. A temptation consists, not barely in the ear's 
hearing evil words, such as are designed to encourage immorality 
and sin, but always in the mind's receiving certain ideas, so as to 
feel, in connection with them, some excitement of desire. This 
must be the case, even if we choose to adopt the notion of a tempt- 
ing agency working from without, of whatever nature the agency 
may be. But neither in that thought of evil, such a thought being 
also in the mind of God ; nor in that excitement of desire, such an 
excitement being inseparable from human nature, there being with- 
out it no possibility either of moral combat or victory; in neither, 
I say, is there anv sin at all, so long as the power of choice triumphs 
purely and perfectly over both. The doctrine then of the Saviours 
innocency receives no detriment from this mode of explaining his 
temptation. . ? 

If, however, we should choose to adopt the idea, that Christ s 
temptation was entirely external, so that, properly speaking, only 
Satan made an attempt to seduce Jesus, but Jesus was not inwardly 
affected by it in the least ; so that the temptation was therefore ob- 
jective merely, and not at all subjective ; still, I see not how we can 
dispose of other passages in the New Testament, without admitting 
an inward excitement of desire, and a struggle ensuing from it in 
the soul of Jesus. The passages in the Epistle to the Hebrews, 4: 
15 and 5: 7, will still be left ; so likewise will many occurrences re- 
corded in the Gospels, where the physical appetite, the excitability 
of sense, the passions of Jesus, are seen to be in lively movement. 
Above all we can always appeal to the conflict of his spirit in Geth- 
semane. There was something in him, at that time, which elicited 
the wish to be delivered from the fearful suffering, that was insepara- 
ble from his elevated destination. But this sensuous 1 part of his hu- 

» [Sinnlich, sensuous, in distinction from sensual : the former referring to 
the animal sensibilities in their constitutional and therefore innocent exer- 
cise ; the latter to these sensibilities in their undue, inordinate, and there- 
fore sinful indulgence. The word has been, recently, often used in this pe- 
culiar signification ; and yet it must be conceded, that there is no valid au- 
thority for the usage. It has been, unjustifiably perhaps, inserted here, and 
on one or two subsequent pages, merely for the sake of convenience. The 



J) 



436 SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 

manity, which broke forth strongly for a moment, and the wish 
which was excited by it, did not determine the will of Jesus ; no, his 
power of choice, and of pure intellect triumphed ; and the victory 
was proclaimed in these great words, " not as I will, but as thou 
wilt." We cannot divest Jesus of such excitements, unless we di- 
vest him of humanity ; but this we cannot do, for it would contradict 
the plain idea which the New Testament gives of Christ ; nor need 
we do it, for the sensuous power, the excitability connected with it, 
the susceptibility to temptation resulting from it, are inseparable from 
human nature, and therefore cannot be regarded as sinful. 1 



SECTION VIII. 

Possibility of perfect virtue.— It cannot be disproved by the actual imperfec- 
tion of the race.— The vitiosity of our race no proof that Christ was not 
perfect.— Original sin no proof.— The fact, that Christ's animal sensibili- 
ties were sometimes excited, no proof that he ever yielded to sin. — His fi- 
nite nature no evidence of guilt — Qis feeling of humility no evidence of it. 

These are perhaps the more important historical objections against 
the uninterrupted holiness of Jesus. We are next met by some in- 

word, animal, might perhaps have been substituted, but this word, as well as 
sensual, often suggests the idea of moral degradation, and such an idea is to 
be especially guarded against in this connection. A new word is manifest- 
ly needed in our language to express the full idea of the German, sinnlich 
-Tr.] 

1 [To say that a holy being possesses the susceptibilities, which, being ex- 
cited to a certain degree, are the inward or subjective motives that occasion 
the change from holiness to sin, is only to say that this holy being is a moral 
being. To say that all excitement of these susceptibilities is itself sin, is to 
say that there is no difference between voluntary and involuntary desires, 
between the character and the constitution of man ; it is to say that sin is 
unavoidable, that it is to be charged upon the Deity, as the only voluntary 
cause. To admit, however, that the excitement of these susceptibilities is 
not in itself a sin. and, unless an vnduc excitement of them be indulged by 
the wilt, leaves the being as holy as ever, is merely to admit, that there is 
such a thing possible as the temptation of a being who remains sinless. The 
admission is essential to the idea of a moral agent. When it is said that God 
cannot be tempted with evil, it is of course meant that there is the most en- 
tire certainty conceivable of his never choosing any improper object. See 
Note G ; at the close of this Treatise.— Tr.] 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



437 



ternal difficulties, which in like manner demand investigation.— A 
man may deny the reality of a virtue, that is entirely pure and per- 
fect, on the ground of his believing such virtue to be impossible ; he 
is convinced that there can never be a human being completely holy. 
This decision, that no man can be perfectly pure and holy, must be 
founded either on general experience, or on a dictate of reason ; it 
must be either an historical truth, or an a priori one ; and we will 
see whether it be this or that. 

In the first place, as to general experience. This has indeed in 
many minds produced an entire want of confidence in the purity of 
any human virtue, and an entire distrust in the moral goodness and 
greatness of our race. — And it is a fact, the deeper we penetrate, 
and the more earnestly we look into the developments of human life 
and history, and the more clearly we see our own hearts, so much 
the more difficult is it to convince us, that an unexceptionably good 
and pure man has ever lived. For look where we will, there is to 
be seen, though veiled perhaps under a thousand smiling forms, vo- 
luptuousness, vanity, ambition, love of property and power, unchari- 
tableness, envy, and the evil of all evils, selfishness, which knows 
how to steal, with the most delicate windings, into our noblest de- 
sires and acts. Seldom are we cheered, for an instant, with the dis- 
covery of a deed that is altogether good and pure ; never do we find 
a man whose life has exhibited an untarnished picture of moral per- 
fection and true spiritual freedom. We have been so habituated to 
this constant view of dereliction from duty, that we are now almost 
incapable of conceiving, in all its sublimity and lustre, a develop- 
ment of virtue that is really exalted and altogether unstained. We 
have lost that mental elasticity, which is essential to our belief in the 
true greatness of the intellect and heart ; and in the end, our know- 
ledge of men dissolves itself into the melancholy state of absolute 
distrust in the race. But the knowledge of mankind, which leads to 
this conclusion, is in fact derived from the principle of distrust. At 
the outset, it is predisposed to discover imperfection and faults, and 
either to overlook the good and noble, or else to refer them to im- 
pure and evil motives. Such acquaintance with human nature shows 
itself to be unsound by this, that it makes a concession which tends 
to cripple and utterly prostrate our best moral dispositions, our love 
and trust, and kills in the root our enthusiasm for mankind. 

On the other hand, when we look among men with unprejudiced 



438 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



feeling, we see an unquestionable amount of the good and noble. 
Men of the keenest understanding, united with the deepest experi- 
ence of life, show by their example, that one may possess these 
qualities, without being induced by them to give up all faith in hu- 
man nature. They prove, that it depends not so much upon expe- 
rience, as upon the disposition and the previous judgment with 
which one examines the phenomena of life, whether he be led to an 
entire distrust in human virtue, or retain a faith in it. And this faith, 
properly speaking, is something which lies beyond the sphere of in- 
dividual experience and is independent of it ; it has its foundation, 
like faith in God, in the depth of the spirit, and, like that, is a power 
which holds us erect amid the storms of life, and raises us above the 
influence of bitter experiences. As little as true faith in God can be 
destroyed by adversity, even so little can faith in mankind be de- 
stroyed by the moral imperfections, or wickedness of individuals. 
All the experience which we can have on this subject is partial and 
contracted. It therefore in no way entitles us to draw the conclu- 
sion, that whatever we find throughout our own narrow horizon, is of 
course a fact existing everywhere and by absolute necessity ; and 
whatever we do not discover in that same circle, is of course a plain 
impossibility. In investigating the laws of nature, a phenomenon 
occurring uniformly allows us to infer, that it is both universal and 
necessary ; but in investigating the operations of the free will, a 
different process is required. Here millions of ordinary phenomena 
prove nothing against one extraordinary phenomenon ; and this is 
not in the slightest degree less possible than those. The necessity 
of sinning and the impossibility of not sinning, is by no means a 
law of the moral nature of man. Nay, perfect virtue is man's true 
and original destination, and the appropriate law of his being ; and 
sin is an exception from this law. And what now can entitle us to 
believe, that there are, everywhere and of necessity, only exceptions 
to this law ; that there can be never and nowhere a fulfilling of it ? 
If ever so many exceptions present themselves before us, they yet 
do not destroy the credibility, that some one at some period may ar- 
rive at the high destination of his race ; that he actually may have 
arrived at it ; and if the real existence of a perfect man be repre- 
sented to us as an historical fact, in all other respects fully entitled to 
belief, the multitude of opposing experiences cannot rationally pre- 
vent us from admitting this one great reality. If we should, in the 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



439 



department of morals, give credence only to that which we learn 
from immediate observation, our circle of vision would become very- 
small and confined ; and we should lose not only faith in the abso- 
lutely pure virtue of the Redeemer, but also faith in the moral ex- 
cellence of all the great and good men, whom we have never had 
an opportunity to know. But there is in the moral nature of man, 
an obligation to believe in such high virtue, even if it do not fall di- 
rectly within the sphere of our actual notice. We cannot therefore 
divest ourselves of firm confidence in the purest and most perfect 
goodness, so far as its appearance, as a matter of fact, is supported 
by all the external proof, which can make it worthy of credence. 1 

But now the question arises, whether moral imperfection and vi- 
tiosity do not, in some degree or other, lie in the nature of man ; and 
whether reason do not pronounce it a universal truth, that no man 
can be perfectly good and holy. All the doubts, so far as I know, 
which pertain to this part of the subject, have been stated particu- 
larly by De Wette. 2 Following in the footsteps of this honored theo- 
logian, we will bring forward the points, which are here to be exam- 
ined ; although we expect to be obliged to solve the difficulties, in a 
different way from that which he has adopted. 

" If,' 1 as may be first remarked, " we ascribe to Jesus the possibility 
of sinning, then we make him a partaker of vitiosity ; for this vitios- 
ity consists not in the sum of sins actually committed, but even in 
the possibility of committing a sin. If then we declare Jesus to be 
free from actual sin, we have not thereby declared him to be free 
from original sin. Vitiosity includes a degree, though the least con- 
ceivable, of sin, and therefore excludes absolute innocence." That 
there was in Jesus a possibility of sinning, so far as he was a truly 
human being, cannot indeed be denied ; but this is by no means 
identical with vitiosity. The possibility of sinning exists in the very 
nature of free-will ; it is inseparable from the constitution of a finite 
moral being. If therefore it is in itself sinful, then a germ of sin is 
communicated to man with, and even in his constitution ; and if this 
be the fact, then the author of our moral constitution, is also the au- 

1 See Note F, at the close. 

2 Christliche Sittenlebre ; 1. pp. 182—193. We make the general re- 
quest, that the whole section, " Christus der Heilige," by De Wette, may 
be consulted. 

3 De Wette Sittenlcehre ; I. p. 188. 



440 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



thor of our sinful tendencies. But this is a conclusion which De 
Wette rejects, as decidedly as every other sound-minded man. 
Plainly the word, vitiosity, must mean more than the bare possibility 
of sinning ; for the possibility of sinning is consistent with a com- 
plete indifference of the free will ; but vitiosity presupposes a decid- 
ed propensity to evil, and a germ of sin from which actual trans- 
gressions subsequently unfold themselves. 1 Therefore, although we 
are to ascribe the possibility of sinning to Jesus, we by no means 
allow that there existed, in connection with this possibility, any sin- 
ful disposition ; any, even the least propensity towards evil, or any 
real evil. 2 

It is another question, whether, besides the possibility of sinning, 
necessary to every free nature, there were not also in Jesus that pe- 
culiar bias to evil, which has been superinduced upon the nature of 
man, without his own choice ; that vitiosity which is called original 
sin. 3 If we consider a predominant bias to evil as dwelling univer- 
sally in human nature, it will be peculiarly difficult to avoid the sup- 
position, that Jesus was swayed by it, and thereby his moral purity 
was defaced. In many systems which retain the strict doctrine of 
original sin, this difficulty, as we well know, is removed by the theo- 
ry, that the peculiar divine interposition, at the miraculous concep- 
tion of Jesus, prevented the implantation within him, of the human 
original depravity ; and the divine nature being united with the hu- 
man at the first moment of its earthly existence, precludes the intro- 
duction of the least degree of moral evil into that human nature. 4 
But we do not allow ourselves to examine, at present, this mode of 
solving the difficulty, and we must decline making any use of the 
solution for the two following reasons. First, it has been our design, 
throughout the whole of this essay, not to interrupt the regular his- 
torical course of our investigation by the admixture of dogmatical 
principles. Secondly, it cannot be proved, that the fact of Christ's 
extraordinary conception, as it is definitely taught by both Mat- 
thew and Luke, is ever in the New 4 Testament brought into connec- 

1 Einen positiven ■ Hang zum Bosen, und einen Keim der Sonde, aus 
welchem sich dann die wirklichen Siinden entwickeln. 

2 See Note G, at the close. 

3 For the meaning of original sin, and the distinction between it and viti- 
osity, see note H, at the close. 

* [See Knapp's Theol. IX. § 78. Storr and Flatt IV. § 75.— Tr.] 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JEStJS. 



441 



tion with the freedom of his nature from original sin. If the New 
Testament does not give this solution, it cannot be considered as au- 
thoritative, even though it have many an argument in its favor. 

A reply now, somewhat like the following, might be made to this 
objection. ' Whatever shape may be given to the dogma of original 
sin, the doctrine of moral freedom must never be endangered by it. 
This doctrine we must hold fast, both in the sense in which it is 
taught in the Gospel, and also in the shape in which it is declared 
by our moral consciousness. For even if we have a propensity to 
evil, we are yet conscious every moment of an inextinguishable 
power, by which we can resist allurements to sin, and act virtuously. 
Without this immediate consciousness, there would be no exercise 
of the moral sense, and no imputation of moral qualities ; for all 
moral judgments are founded on the conviction that we are both able 
and bound to avoid the evil, and perform the good. Now in this 
certainty of freedom, the supposition of which excludes all absolute 
necessity of sinning, we have the pledge, that it is possible to be 
a partaker of human nature, and yet to be without sin. For if the 
power of free-will is one, which can overcome the inclination to evil, 
and do what is right, in every individual case, then it also includes the 
possibility of doing right in all cases. It is therefore conceivable, that 
in some human being this possibility should be exemplified in actual 
fact.' — But this kind of exemption from sin presupposes an entirely 
uncorrupted and unweakened power of choice ; and the existence 
of such a power is denied by the supposition of a universal corrup- 
tion of human nature. 1 

The objection, therefore, which we are now considering, may per- 
haps be answered more satisfactorily in the following manner : 1 It 
cannot be regarded as a truth of abstract reason that man must sin ; 
nor even that he is infected by nature with a propensity, or bias to 
sin. Looking away from Revelation, we can be convinced of this 
bias cleaving to ourselves only by experience.^ By this experience, 
indeed, we are compelled to believe that the moral consciousness of 
every one may convince him of the weakness which exists in his 
own will. Still, on the other hand, if a rational being appears, who 

1 See Note I, at the close of this Treatise. 

2 Even Kant appeals to experience, when he would prove the existence 
of a bias to evil in human nature. Relig. innerh. der Granzen der bl. Ver- 
nunft, l.Cap.3. 

56 



442 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



does not experience this moral failing, and who with vast mental 
power, and with cool discretion, bears testimony to his own perfec- 
tion of virtue, then, unless this testimony be destitute of other crite- 
ria of truth, we have no reason to reject it. We have no reason, as 
sin must not be considered necessary to man, to refuse such testi- 
mony, even if, at first view, it be not entirely obvious how a being, 
who belongs to a corrupted race, can yet be free from the common 
corruption. 

There is another objection. It is said, 1 — " So far as the virtue of 
Jesus was human, it must have had a mixture of the sensuous, from 
which no human resolution is entirely free ; and in being thus sub- 
jected to a law of sense, there is such an imperfection, as is 
incompatible with the idea of absolute completeness of virtue." 
There is some truth in this idea. We cannot deny that the 
sensuous principle, which imparts excitement to the resolutions and 
acts, was intimately connected with the virtue of Jesus. We cannot 
deny it, so long as we suppose, that he had necessarily the same 
connection of soul with body, which other men have. It is not to 
be conceded, however, that in this sensuous element of the volun- 
tary and of the external action, there is anything in itself evil and 
sinful. As soon as the last and highest impulse to the volition and 
the outward act goes forth from the appropriate leading power, from 
spirit (pneuma), the volition and the act are morally good ; even if 
in the progress of these there be conjoined, as is inevitable, an ex- 
citement of the animal sensibilities. The excitement of sense is 
evil, only when in opposition to higher spiritual principles. But we 
do not find this opposition in Jesus, neither in suffering, nor in 
acting ; and wherever, as the result of his human nature, any en- 
ticement arises from his animal sensibilities, the enticement is 
overpowered by the spiritual nature. If then an operation of the 
sensuous principle is exhibited in the conduct of Jesus, it is still 
in harmonious subordination to the ruling spiritual power. Now 
the excitements of this principle are actually essential to human na- 
ture ; if we should suppose them to be at all sinful, we must ascribe 
the guilt to the author of them. That these sensuous impulses, 
however, operated unsuitably, even in a single instance, as the 
means of determining the will of Jesus, can in no way be shown. 

Still less is it evident to me, how any one, without considering 

J De Wette Christ. Mor. J. p. 188. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



443 



every created being as an apostate from God, and without adopting 
the representations of the oriental Gnostics and of Origen, bow any 
one, I say, can speak of Jesus as " guilt}- in having a finite nature ;" 
and can make the remark, that •« as a human being, he must have 
been finite, and therefore a subject of the contractedness and guilt, 
which belong to the finite state, as such. ,,] Every being, as is 
obvious, is perfect only according to his constitutional structure. 
The perfection of a finite nature is therefore by no means absolutely 
identical with the perfection of an infinite ; the highest and purest 
human virtue is yet not the holiness of God, for this holiness is con- 
joined with the comprehensive whole of his nature and attributes. 
But the finite being is not guilty on account of this difference. 
Whatever corresponds with the origin and design of his constitution 
is right ; all that belongs to pure humanity' 2 is, as such, perfect. If 
w 7 e impute finiteness, as a sin, to a finite nature, then again the sin 
lies at the door of him who has actually made that nature as it is, 
made it not infinite. But yet the perfectly virtuous will of man, 
though it be finite, may correspond with the holy will of God, which 
is infinite ; and the human, in the sphere of operation assigned it, 
may harmonize with the divine. This is all which we assert, when 
we ascribe to Jesus, in his mere human nature, innocence and holi- 
ness. Only when the finite will goes out of its appropriate sphere, 
does it become guilty for its finiteness, and just so far guilty, as it 
puts itself forward for something different from what it actually is, 
(and comes short of what it pretends to be.) This charge however 
is not brought against Jesus ; at least not in the preceding objection. 

Finally, it is still objected, 3 " The feeling of humility in the breast 
of Jesus resulted from the consciousness of being imperfect and cir- 
cumscribed ; and of having some vitiosity and guilt. This humility 
is an essential feature of the moral perfection of man ; by it man 
purifies himself from the guilt cleaving to him ; and therefore Jesus, 
when he humbles himself as a finite nature, before the heavenly 
Father, is in this respect also an example for us." But if a self-con- 
sistency must be ascribed to the character of the Messiah, we cannot 
admit this assertion. The same Jesus who declared himself free 

1 De Wette, Christ. Mor. I . pp. 169, 192. 

2 [Whatever belongs to the constitution of man as he came from the hand 
of God.— Tr.] 

3 Ibid. I. p. 192 



444 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



from every fault, who was confident of his oneness with God, who 
was immovably persuaded that in all his life he represented the 
character of his Father, could not have been humble on account of 
any, even the slightest feeling of moral deficiency and guilt. It was 
only from a generous condescension, that he was humble. It was 
only for the sake of -being an example to the race, for the sake of 
attracting and elevating men to himself, by the power of a self- 
denying love. The general truth is, humility does not distinctively 
consist in the consciousness of our moral imperfections and faults ; 
this is the feeling of guilt. Humility is the modest estimation of the 
good which belongs to ourselves, the mild judgment respecting others 
of inferior worth, and the conviction that none of the good which we 
possess is of our own acquisition, but is the gift of a higher power 
and love. And this humility we find in Jesus. He allowed no 
splendid exhibition of his high and peculiar excellences. He was 
always mild and condescending ; so that he might bless the weakest 
with the beams of his light, and the power of a better life. And 
above all, in every thing which he said and did, he pointed to the 
fountain of truth and goodness ; to the Father, who permitted the 
Son to have in himself, and to exhibit to man a heavenly life that 
was pure, perfect and self-sufficient. 1 

1 It is indeed true, that the heaven of heavens is destitute of the degree of 
purity which belongs to God, and may therefore be called comparatively 
impure ; and the angels are destitute of the degree of wisdom, which be- 
longs to Him, and may therefore be charged with comparative foil}' ; and 
all finite beings are necessarily, in the strictest sense of the term, imperfect, 
and are bound to feel and acknowledge their inferiority to Him, who only is 
absolute perfection. Hence the angels veil their faces before God, and fall 
prostrate. Hence Christ, as a man, was " meek and lowly," and cried " not 
as 1 will but as thou wilt." These created intelligences are perfect relatively 
to their capacities, but as they are not perfect in the absolute sense, they 
feel bound to appreciate their inferiority, as it really is. This heart-felt 
appreciation may be termed humility ; a generic word, which, though it or- 
dinarily includes the specific idea of penitence for sin, does not always, nor 
necessarily. See De Wette, Christian Morals, Vol. 1. p. 1!>2.— Tr.] 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



445 



SECTION IX. 

Concluding Remarks. — Jesus is the only perfect man. — Dependence of one 
part of our nature upon another. — Intellectual character of Jesus. — His 
testimony concerning the origin of his doctrine. — A revelation increnses 
rather than decreases the mental activity of the recipient. — Faith a ration- 
al principle. 

Even in view, then, of the preceding difficulties, the conviction of 
the pure sinlessness of Jesus remains unshaken ; and he appears still 
more clearly before the mind's eye, as the realized ideal of the high- 
est spiritual perfection, as the perfect image of holy, God-like hu- 
manity. But it is still necessary, that we make some concluding re- 
marks, which are suggested by the principle that we have been en- 
deavoring to establish. 

In the first place, Jesus is the only one, of whom history testifies 
that he has lived without sin, pure and holy, and in respect of whom 
the truth of such testimony can be substantiated. Of all other men, 
even the best and noblest men, the most that can be said is, their 
failings were outweighed by their virtues : but of Jesus we can 
entertain the well-grounded belief, that he was altogether without 
fault and defect, and was the purest image of perfection. By this 
he stands out in the world's history, alone, as a moral wonder ; ] and, 
considered even as a mere man, he is lifted up above all other men, 
whose common lot it is to be imperfect. Pure innocence and holi- 
ness make a distinction between the character of Christ and that of 
all other men ; a distinction not merely in degree, but in kind also, 
not for a brief period, but forever. The moral consciousness of every 
other mortal, tells him without gainsaying, that he is stained with 
sin. He feels the purity of his soul tarnished by the remem- 

1 " A man, who was subject, like other mortals, to every temptation to 
sin, and still fell not, was not defiled by the slightest breath of iniquity, 
wandered not once in his life, not even a hair's breadth, from the path of 
virtue ; such a man is indeed no less a wonder in the moral world, than one 
raised from the grave, and lifted up with a visible body to heaven, is a won- 
der in the physical world." See Orellx, on the controversy between 
Rationalism and Supernaturalism, p. 26. 



446 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



brance and the continued operation of his earlier iniquities. He be- 
holds himself at all times encompassed with imperfection, every 
instant exposed to the possibility of leaving the safe path of the 
divine will ; and he is compelled to renounce the hope, that he shall 
attain, at least within the limits of the present life, perfect purity of 
virtue. On this height of the unclouded spiritual life, however, 
Christ is exalted. He is the pattern of humanity, to which indeed 
we may make an approximation, but to which we never completely 
raise ourselves. The figure of Jesus always moves above us in 
unattainable purity and dignity ; and the more we model ourselves 
according to it, so much the higher is the standard it holds out for 
our endeavors. Truly the distance which every healthy eye dis- 
cerns between ourselves and the Redeemer, a distance which is 
incalculable and which we shall never entirely pass over, ought 
to fill us all with the deepest and holiest awe of his person. It ought 
also to make us constantly mindful of our obligation to recognize in 
him an intellectual as well as moral nature, which, in the department 
of ethical and religious truth, has an altogether superior degree of 
knowledge, and on that account can make altogether peculiar pre- 
tensions. But this will be made still clearer to us by the second 
consideration which follows. 

In whatever way the faculties of the mind may have been distin- 
guished and separated, still, as a matter of fact, this mind is not par- 
titioned out in the frame work which psychology has contrived, but 
is one simple spirit, which acts in various directions, and exhibits it- 
self in various modes. The threads of the undivided, active spirit 
are so intertwined, that every impression affects in some way the 
whole soul ; and every operation, even of an apparently isolated 
power, stands in some close connection with all the remaining pow- 
ers. Never can the thinking faculty be in operation, without some 
influence upon the feeling and the will ; nor can the faculty of will 
be in operation, without the activity of the intellect, and an excite- 
ment of the affections. This indivisible oneness of spirit then being 
considered, it is not conceivable that a soul should stand at the high- 
est point of perfection in the department of morals and religion — 
a department which has immediate reference to the will and the con- 
duct, — and yet should be subjected to imperfection and fault in the 
department of thought and knowledge. Perfection of act presuppo- 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



447 



ses directly a like perfection of knowledge, and every defect in 
knowledge brings after it a corresponding fault in act. Experience 
indeed shows us, that the power of the soul may be brought forward 
principally in one direction, while it suffers manifest want in other 
directions. A man may, for example, have an excellent moral char- 
acter, without especial culture of the memory, or taste for the fine 
arts. But there is a radical self-contradiction in supposing that in 
the very same province of the spiritual life, there may be an absolute 
perfection of practice, conjoined with an imperfection of theory. 
On the contrary, in this province a practical faultlessness presupposes 
a theoretical. Our most immediate concern with Jesus, as the foun- 
der of a religion, respects his moral and religious life.merely ; and 
it is precisely here, if anywhere, that thoughts and acts, theory and 
practice stand in inseparable interchange and connection. Every 
sin operates upon our thoughts, to dim them ; and every error of 
moral principle imprints itself also, in some way, upon the will and 
the conduct. On the other hand, clearness of knowledge on moral 
subjects exerts a purifying influence upon the will, and the purifica- 
tion of the will makes still clearer the thoughts and the knowledge. 
Both applications of the mind, then, the theoretical and the practical, 
meet together, ultimately, at the innermost point of the character, 
and by means of this inseparable connection between the different 
parts of the character, both modes of applying the mind have, in their 
complete development, such a reciprocal influence, that every im- 
pression and every reaction in either department is communicated 
necessarily to the other department. If, therefore, the inmost prin- 
ciples of the soul, in its practical development, be pure and perfect, 
they must be likewise pure and perfect in its theoretical development, 
in the thoughts, in the knowledge. The same is true conversely. 
Holy innocence and unerring perception of the truth reciprocally 
imply each other. Jesus would not have discovered the truth in its 
full celestial purity, had not his soul been free from sin ; neither 
could he have been holy, and free from sin, without the purest and 
most perfect perception of religious truth. His moral and his per- 
ceptive powers must develop themselves in true proportions, in pure, 
perfect and undisturbed harmony. If then we confide firmly and 
unconditionally in the moral perfection of Jesus, we are obliged in 
all reason to transfer the same confidence to his knowledge of truth, 
and the instructions which spring from it. If his life is to us a rule 



448 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



of moral perfection, and a perpetual example, then his declarations 
on moral and religidus subjects must be our rule of belief. If Jesus, 
as we do not doubt, was holy without a fault, so likewise was his 
knowledge correct without an error. 1 

Add to this, there is in a general view somewhat of a contradiction, 
between the acknowledgement, on the one hand, that Jesus was the 
purest and most elevated spirit, and, on the other, that he was sub- 
ject to errors and weaknesses in his meditation on moral and reli- 
gious subjects; — to such errors and weaknesses as w T ould scarcely ever 
be chargeable upon a man of even inferior understanding. 2 It is 
well known that a venerable theologian, now in glory, has pointed 
out in full, what peculiarly noble qualities of mind and character were 
requisite, to devise a plan for the general blessedness of mankind, 
and to accomplish it as it was accomplished by Jesus. This theolo- 
gian supposed it unreasonable to regard local and temporary causes, 
and the ordinary methods of human education, as sufficient to ac- 
count for the development of that mind, which originally devised 
such a plan and executed it in such a way. Hence he infers, that 
Jesus was sent and sustained in an especial manner by God. If now 
we hesitate to follow Reinhard in this inference, 3 we must still con- 
sider it as a fact universally acknowledged, that we are not only al- 
lowed, but, as rational beings, are absolutely obliged to reverence 
most deeply the mind from which the new, all-embracing creation 
of the christian system proceeded. Indeed it was the noblest 
thought, and the most worthy of a divine being, to establish an order 
of things, by the operation of which, all mankind in all times and all 
lands, even to the remotest eternity, may be blessed. The mind, 
which was the first to embrace all human beings in its uncontracted 
view, the heart which was the first to beat for the salvation of the 
whole human brotherhood, must be called great, if anything can de- 
serve that name. Nothing but a union of the greatest intellect with 
the most expanded heart made such a thought possible. And noble 

1 Consult Schleiermacher's Dogmat. 2. p. 223, and in other places ; also 
his fourth Feast-day Sermon, referred to above, especially p. 96. 

2 [No private individual, of ordinary powers of mind ; would, while in fact 
imperfect, have made such pretensions as Christ made to perfect virtue ; 
would have been so ignorant of his true character, and of his relations to the 
divine law ; or would have demanded such respect and reverence from oth- 
ers.] 

3 [See Reinhard's Plan, particularly Part III. and Appendix F. — Tr.] 



440. 

SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



as was the thought, the expression of it was equally bright and glo- 
rious. The brief, unostentatious, and altogether spiritual activity ot 
Jesus has produced the deepest and the most wide-spread effects, 
for nearly two thousand years. These effects have extended over a 
„reat portion of mankind; and even now warrant the lively hope, 
That they will be extended, in still wider circles, over the whole race, 
and will carry freedom of spirit and the truths of a divine hfe to the 
most distant people. Never was there wrought a greater, more fun- 
damental, more comprehensive change for the better, than that 
wrought by Jesus. At least, therefore, we are intellectually com- 
pelled to acknowledge, that he possessed a mind of the most pro- 
found and extensive views, and one from which effects have gone 
forth, that surpass everything in the history of the world, for purity, 
ooodness and extent. Could now this greatest of men, with all his 
Superiority of mental power, have been subject to the common er- 
rors of hb time ?-for to suppose that he accommodated himself to 
them with the conviction that they were errors, would imply that he 
origin of Jesuitism may be traced back to Jesus himself, -could the 
greatest clearness of thought have coexisted with fanaticism and with 
dimness and confusion of view ? Would not, rather, everything in 
the province of morals and religion, and especially would not his re- 
lation to the Godhead, have been clear and plain to him ? But this 
mind, be it remembered, which conceived the great scheme that has 
blessed our race, protested in repeated instances and in various forms, 
that ' his instructions were not from himself but from God, who sent 
him ; he spoke not his own words, but what the Father commanded 
him to teach, that only did he communicate to men.' With the 
same high self-confidence, which he displayed in speaking of his 
unspotted holiness, he declared that ' he came into the world for the 
purpose of testifying to the truth,' yea he designated himself express- 
ly as ' the Truth 1' All these expressions are found in the simplest 
prosaic style ; and are almost universally so unambiguous, that, with- 
out a mingling of a priori principles in the interpretation, they would 
never be misunderstood. When Jesus says that he did not come into 
the world of himself (&<r ivvrov), and did not teach of himself, nei- 
ther the usus loquendi, nor the sound, simple intent of the passage, 
properly allows us to restrict the expression to this, that he did not 
teach with the desire and intention of aggrandizing himself ; but the 
meaning is, that he came and taught for the furtherance of the di- 
57 



450 SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



vine plan. Wherever then the phrase « 9 3 iaviov laXuv, or a similar 
one occurs, especially in the New Testament, it always denotes an 
expression, act, or something else, which proceeds from one's own 
merely subjective conviction, authority and power ; in contradistinc- 
tion from a remark or an act which proceeds from the authority, 
and under the influence of another. Precisely the same meaning is 
to be adopted, when Jesus very plainly contrasts the instruction and 
the deed, which proceed from himself (Zcp eavrov), with the teaching 
of that which he had received from God, and the performance of 
that for which he had been commissioned and endowed by God. 
Equally unambiguous is the expression, « my doctrine is not mine, 
but his that sent me." The meaning is, * my doctrine in its essen- 
tial import was not conceived, discovered, developed bv me, as a 
mere human being, and according to the laws of my human intellect ; 
neither is it promulged barely on my own authority; but it origina- 
ted from God, it sprung up under his influence and is confirmed by 
his authority.'! Had Jesus simply said, ' my doctrine is divine,' the 
meaning might perhaps have been explained thus, ' I have not come 
without a preparation from God for the doctrines which I teach, and 
these doctrines are fully worthy of God.' On this supposition, then, 
the instructions which the Saviour might have originated and arrang- 
ed by his mere human intellect, were declared by him to be of di- 
vine origin, simply because they were the truth, and perhaps also be- 
cause he had ascertained their truth providentially, as it is called, or 
in other words, under that general divine guidance, which extends to 
all who make discoveries in science, and advance the cause of vir- 
tue. But such an hypothesis is refuted by the plain and decisive 
contrast, not mine, but God's. In this phraseology the origin of 
Christ's instructions from his own human intellect is obviously placed 
in opposition to their having originated from the Deity; their origin 
from the former source is denied, from the latter asserted. It is 
therefore maintained by Jesus himself, and in the full sense of the 
terms, that his instructions were derived from God. 

1 Much that might be said on this subject, has been so^r^hl7disc"us- 
sed m two recent works, that no further elucidation is needed. A complete 
argument, and one extending into very minute particulars, is given by Siis- 
kind in his historical and exegetical Inquiry, In what sense did Jesus assert 
the D.vimty of his Religious and Moral Instructions ?-A shorter exegetical 
solution is given by Schott, in his Letters on Religion and the Christian 
Revelation. Jena, 1826, p. 115 seq. 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



451 



When Christ says, further, that he came ' to bear witness to the 
truth, that he himself is the Truth,' 1 he employs the word, truth, not 
by any means to denote a moral system, which, though excellent, 
is mingled somewhat with the errors, follies, and superstitions of his 
age ; but he employs it to denote the complete system of pure and 
authentic doctrine ; he intends to assert, that he makes known to men 
all the knowledge of moral and religious truth which they need, 
and which will at the same time make them blessed, if it be receiv- 
ed in its vitality. 

If we will not trust the simple assurance of Jesus, we must main- 
tain that a fanatical self-delusion led him to ascribe to God the origin 
of doctrines, which, in their spirit and essential import, he had dis- 
covered and proclaimed by the force of his own genius. We must 
reply however to such a charge, that a self-delusion, like this, does 
not comport with the clear, discreet and penetrating mind of the 
Saviour. There can be no doubt, that such a mind as his might 
distinguish easily, between that which developed itself from the depths 
of his own soul, by the use of his own powers, and that which came 
to him from another and higher source. Knowing that he could 
clearly make this distinction, we should expect nothing else than 
that he would truly and plainly communicate to us what he believed 
to be the fact. At all events, no one but himself was able to give 
satisfactory information about the origin and source of his instruc- 
tions ; none but he knew his own inward condition, and the relation 
of his spirit to the Spirit of all spirits. The testimony of so great 
and clear-minded a lover of truth should, then, have more weight 
with us than all the theories which can be fabricated, after the 
lapse of eighteen hundred years. Must not Jesus have known what 
existed and took place within himself, better than we know ? Must 
not the self-consciousness of so extraordinary a mind, when it ex- 
pressed itself about its internal history, have a more decisive 
voice than our own surmises and thoughts upon the subject ? 

We have no desire to investigate here the manner in which di- 
vine truth was communicated to Jesus, nor the internal connection 
which subsisted, in this respect, between his spirit and the Father. 
Even Jesus himself gives us no decisive information on this subject. 
It is not essential to know the mode, in which he obtained his doc- 
trines ; it is only essential to know the fact, that these doctrines 
1 See Note K, at the close. 



452 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



were from God ; that in their essential import they were the pro- 
duct, not of a mere human mind, contracted, subject to error, but of 
the Divine Mind, which is absolutely true, which is the perfect Rea- 
son. But in whatever way we may seek to determine the precise 
manner in which truth was revealed to Jesus, it seems to me by no 
means necessary to suppose, that the individual activity of his soul 
was in any manner superseded by the fact of his being inspired, and 
that he was reduced to a mere passive instrument. On the other 
hand I am fully convinced, that the idea of receiving supernatural 
revelations from God, perfectly agrees with the supposition of the 
freest, liveliest, and most exalted mental activity in the recipient. 
Eveiy communication to the intellect is designed and adapted to ex- 
cite and invigorate it ; and provided the communication be of a pro- 
per kind, it advances the soul to a purer knowledge and an elevated 
life. It can be no otherwise with that form of communication to the 
intellect, which we call revelation ; and plainly, if we suppose the 
receiver of such revelation to be merely passive, we introduce into 
the idea something entirely impertinent. If we cannot conceive of 
the primitive act of revelation, as performed otherwise than by means 
of the inspired man's own activity, — and this activity purified, ex- 
alted, ennobled by being thus employed ; so neither can we suppose, 
that the truths thus revealed, can be propagated without the indivi- 
dual activity of the minds to which they are addressed. Never are 
the truths of revelation properly received by us, without the free ex- 
ercise of our own mental powers. Such a reception of them always 
tends to exalt, purify, and invigorate the whole intellectual life, and 
the rational thought not less than the pure sentiment and will. 

Faith, therefore, in Jesus and his instructions, when it is of the 
right character, is not a blind, limping, spiritless deference to mere 
authority ; it is a new germ of life, which is planted in our spirits, 
so that, in its free unfolding, it may bring forth the richest blossoms 
and fruits. We may indeed be justified in yielding to the bare word 
of him, who, unlike every other man, is perfectly innocent and holy, 
and therefore, in the knowledge of divine things, unerring. This is 
a kind of faith, however, which is not blind, and does not sacrifice 
the reason of man. It is founded directly on our rational, our moral 
constitution ; and on the sound principle, that a soul which is per- 
fectly sinless and good, which dwells in the purest union with Deity, 
will be capable of a clearness and a perfection of religious know- 



SINLESS CHARACTER OF JESUS. 



453 



ledge, such as no other intellect can attain. And if, penetrated with 
this persuasion, we receive certain instructions as true, which Jesus 
gave, receive them at first barely for the sake of the person who 
gave them ; yet by no means are we precluded, by this faith, from 
subsequently retaining the same truths on the ground of their inhe- 
rent excellence, for their own sake as well as their author's : nor are 
we precluded from searching after the inward principles which sup- 
port them. Far from it. There is, on the one hand, in the spiritual 
truths themselves, which the Bible exhibits, something that allures 
to still further development ; something that has a quickening in- 
fluence on the mind ; and, so far forth, revelation is incessantly ef- 
fecting an improvement in the intellectual character of the race. 
There is, on the other hand, in the mind itself, a necessity of work- 
ing over, in its own thoughts, the truth that is presented to it, and of 
making continual advances from what is obscure to what is obvious. 
In no way, however, can that which we believe on the bare authori- 
ty of Jesus, contravene the laws of our own intellect. On the con- 
trary, we ever feel ourselves bound to receive his doctrines, under 
the previous supposition, that they are the outflowings of the highest, 
the absolute, the divine Reason, from which have proceeded not only 
these truths, but also the nature, the laws, and the necessities of our 
own narrow, but yet divinely-related intellect. We feel assured 
that there is a pree'stablished harmony between revelation and the 
human soul ; and we are convinced that there will be discovered, at 
the last, a most exact agreement between the truths revealed by the 
divine reason, and the laws which regulate the human. It must be 
understood, however, as a condition of this agreement, that the hu- 
man reason is to be in the right train of investigation ; of pure-mind- 
ed investigation, originating from the noblest cravings of the soul, 
excited by God-like impulses of truth, and therefore equally pro- 
found and modest. 



454 



MOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 

NOTE A, Page 392. 

The argument drawn from the moral character of the writers and the doc- 
trines of the Bible, appears to increase in its relative importance, as the sen- 
sibilities of men become more refined. There are multitudes, whose atten- 
tion must be aroused by the exhibition of wonders, and whose heart must 
be assaulted violently, or it will not be benefited at all. But there are others, 
who are more effectuallj' subdued by the still small voice. The argument 
from miracles, meeting as it does a demand of the human soul, is by no 
means to be undervalued ; and yet this is not the kind of proof, to which 
the majority of cordial believers in the Bible are, at the present day, most 
attached. They have neither the time nor the ability to form an estimate of 
the historical evidence, that favors or opposes the actual occurrence of mir- 
acles. They know the Bible to be true, because they feel it to be so. The 
excellence of its morality, like a magnet, attracts their souls ; and sophis- 
try, which they cannot refute, will not weaken their faith, resulting as it 
does from the accordance of their higher nature with the spirit of the Bible. 
The internal argument in favor of Christianity is also recommended by its 
moral influence. The full exhibition of it is a melting appeal to the heart; 
and as the heart becomes the more susceptible, the argument becomes the 
more convincing. With the unlettered Christian, then, the moral evidence for 
the Bible is the more effectual, because the more simple ; with the educated 
Christian it is so, because the more dignified. It may be questioned, indeed, 
whether the argument from miracles is not logically dependent, for its com- 
plete force, on its connection with the argument from the moral nature of 
Christianity. Was not the former argument designed to operate in conjunc- 
tion with the latter ; and does it not, when severed from that union, fail to 
afford fall conviction ? We have read of wonders performed ostensibly for 
a bad object, and also of wonders performed in mere frivolity. Can any 
evidence whatever, in favor of these anomalies, fully convince the mind of 
their real occurrence, as miracles? Can we be fully satisfied, that miracles 
have occurred, while we view them as mere naked phenomena, abstracted 
from their connection with a divine government, from any and every moral 
object to be attained by them ? As the proof of the inspiration of the Bible 
is, in the logical order, subsequent to the proof of the existence and govern- 
ment of G-od, we certainly have a right to decline a controversy on the 
former subject, until our opponent has conceded the fundamental truths re- 
lating to the latter. When he has conceded these, we may connect with 
them the external argument lor inspiration. The controversy between 
Campbell and Hume shows the disadvantage, under which any one must 
labor, who attempts to prove the occurrence of miracles as insulated facts. 
or to dispute on their credibility with one who denies the first principles of 



NOTES BY THE TKANSLATOR. 



555 



natural religion. And when Campbell intermingles with the abstract dis- 
cussion, as he often does, references to the actual or possible design of a mo- 
ral Governor in producing the disputed phenomena, he maj r be censured per- 
haps for diverging from the line of argument, which he at first intended to 
pursue ; but may be approved for practically acknowledging, that wonders, 
so great as those recorded in the Bible, must be viewed in some connection 
with a worthy moral end to be answered by them ; or they will not command 
the full assent of the intellect. Consult, however, on the general subject, 
Hume's Ess. on Mir., and Campbell's Reply. Erskine on Int. Ev. pp. 110 
— 129. Brown on Cause and Effect, Notes E. and F. Paley's Ev. (Prep. 
Consid). Price's Diss. pp. 384 — 464. Butler's Anal. II. 7. Starkie on Evi- 
dence, I. pp. 471—475. Whateley's Rhet. P. I. Ch. 2. § 4, and 3. § 4. 
Abercrombie on Int. Powers, P. 2. S. 3, particularly pp. 77—86. 

NOTE B, p. 394. 

The following explanation of terms, which is taken from Bretschneider's 
Entwickelung, § 90. pp. 520 — 524, may throw light upon the phraseology of 
Ullmann, in this, and in subsequent parts of his treatise. " Sin, peccatum, 
denotes, in the theological usage, sometimes a property (or attribute) of the 
free being himself, sometimes a property of his feelings and acts. The for- 
mer is sin in the abstract; the latter, sin in the concrete. (Cicero, paradox. 
111. says, " to sin is, as it were, to pass over the lines ; the doing of which is 
cause of blame." Peccare therefore is the same as Tzaqafiaivtiv. Salmasius 
derives peccatum and peccare from pecus : " more pecudum, sine ratione 
agere." Gellius, however, and Isidorus derive it from pellicatus, because 
adultery was first called sin by the ancients, and the name was afterward 
extended to all kinds of iniquity.) Sin, in the abstract, is the want of coin- 
cidence between the state of free beings and the commands of God, or, which 
is the same thing, the object for which those beings were created. It is " il- 
legality, or want of conformity with the law," 1 Calov. V. p. 14, or " the want 
of agreement with the law," 2 Reinhard, Dogm p. 267. [« He is said to sin,' 
says Henke, 1 who deviates from the divine law either in feeling or in action. 
The rule of right is the divine law, or the pleasure of God made known to 
men, concerning that which is to be done or avoided. Bret. Dogm. II. pp. 
5, 6. — Tr] Perhaps, however, the term vitiosity rather than the term sin 
should be applied to the abstract idea ; the term sin being most frequently 
used in the concrete. [See Note G, following. — Tr.] This simple and pop- 
ular idea is expressed by John, 1st Epist. 3: 4, " sin is the transgression of 
the law;" and all the terms employed in the Scriptures respecting sin, in- 
clude the distinctive mark of opposition to the law, over-stepping the rule, 
or disobedience to the rule. Thus the most usual word, a^iaqtdvuv means 
" to miss one's aim," and Suidas explains the word djuagria by the phrase, 

1 Ulegalitas, aut difformitas a lege. 

2 Absentia convenience cum lege. 



456 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



failure from moral good, aberration from the right path, from one's aim. 1 
The same is also expressed by the Hebrew start . Other expressions are 
y,*j , that which is perverted, crooked, deviating from rule ; 2 tiiig , error, 
wandering from the right aim and way ; , xay.ia, Tzovriqia, that which is 
wrong in itself, bringing perdition ; jjsn . making confusion, worthy of pun- 
ishment. Particularly deserving of notice are the figurative terms denoting 
a falling away from the law, or a stepping over it, as ytfs , ,.r»2S»^ > 
VSM , TvaquTZTOJfia, TcaQajlaoic, unoGxaGia, Ttagaxorjj and such like. But sin 
is not only predicated of acts which are contrary to the law, but also of feel- 
ings, as in Matt. 9: 4. Mark 7: 21, and of the whole state of the man, so far 
as it does not agree with the commands of God ; Rom. 7: 17. 5: 12. 6: 1 seq. 
1 John 3:8. John 8: 34. 

Sin, in the concrete, is every feeling or act of a free being, which is con- 
trary to the known law ; ; ' the free motions and actions that are not in agree- 
ment with the divine law/" 3 Doederlein, Inst. Vol. II, p. 99. 

In a more exact development of the idea of sin, we must distinguish be- 
tween the material of it, and the formal. The material implies a law given 
or promulged, (Rom. 4: 15. 5: 3), and a feeling or deed at variance with it. 
This has also been called objective sin (Doederlein, Inst. 11. p. 100) ; and to 
it belong all those feelings and acts, which we exercise or perform while we 
are not in a state of moral freedom. 4 Perhaps this might be called metaphy- 
sical sin. The formal consists in the knowledge of the law, and such a de- 
viation from the law, as is made in the exercise of free will, i. e. in a ration- 
al state. The formal is subjective sin, which the man must also acknowledge 
to be sin ; or it is moral, such as may be imputed. From the forma] origi- 
nates guilt ; reatus, that is " the state of being obnoxious to punishment, or 
to the suffering which proceeds from fault." 5 (Mosheim, Elem. Theolog. 
Dogmat. 1. p. 589.) This guilt (exposedness to punishment) follows from 
the imputation of the sin ; i. e. " from the judgment, in which we affirm 
that any one is the author of anything, which was done deliberately," 6 Rein- 
hard, Dogm. p. 291, or the "judgment by which any one is held chargeable 
with a fault." 7 [For an explanation of this distinction between the mate- 
rial and the formal, see also Bretschneider, Dogm. Vol. 11. p. 5. See Rom. 
4: 15. 5: 13.— Tr.] 

The opposite of sin is virtue, or the harmonious relation of our feelings 
and acts to the divine law. It is piety, the fear of God (pietas, tvot(i£ia, 
yofiog rov -dsov), if reverence for God. and desire to please him, which is 

1 "Hzov dya&ov anoTvyia, aberratio a recto, a scopo. 

2 Abnorme. 

3 Motus et actus liberi legi divinae haud consentanei. 

4 Deren wir uns in einem unfreien Zustande schuldig machen. 

5 Obligatio ad poenam, aut, obligatio ad malum sustinendum, quod ex 
culpa nascitur. 

6 Judicium, quo affirmamus, aliquem esse rei cujusdam,in quam delibera- 
te cadit auctorem. 

7 Judicium quo quis culpae reus habetur. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



457 



holiness, (dytoavvtjj sanctimonia),if the feeling of the absolute worthiness of 
virtue and the unwoithiness of sin be the ruling motive. In virtue also, as 
in sin, we may distinguish the matter and the form. This distinction may 
also be expressed by the words legality and morality, illegality and immo- 
rality. Legality is the agreement of our actions with the law ; morality is 
that harmony of our actions with the law, which proceeds from motives that 
have a moral character. This distinction is designated in the symbolical 
books by the expressions, justitia civilis, and justitia spirituals ; and also, 
justitia externa, and justitia interna. By the former term is understood the 
external decency of the act, according to which it agrees with the law ; by 
the latter, the internal morality of the act, according to which it proceeds 
from a knowledge of God, and of goodness, and from pure love to both." 

Though we would not be considered as resting on the authority of Bret- 
schneider, we would simply repeat the substance of his definitions, so far as 
they affect our present object. Jt appears, then, that all 41 subjective sin," all 
< : moral sin," all such sin as can be imputed to the sinner as blame-worthy, 
consists in 1, an act; 2, a voluntary act; 3, a voluntary act in violation of 
law; 4, a voluntary act in violation of known law ; that all other kinds of 
sin, such for instance as constitutional tendency, are objective or metaphysi- 
cal, but not moral, such as its possessor cannot charge upon himself as matter 
of blame, though it may subject him, as is supposed by some, to punishment. 
Justice, one would think, must require that the punishment for metaphysi- 
cal sin be metaphysical punishment; that putative ill-desert be followed by 
merely putative penalties ; or in the words of the schoolmen, " aequum ae- 
quo." If all sin consists in sinning, then there may indeed be pain, but 
there cannot be punishment, without a previous act of the will against known 
law. 

NOTE C, p. 395. 

If the only sin, chargeable upon man, is " a free act which is opposed to 
the divine law, or which deviates from it," (Knapp, Art. 9. § 73. 1), and if 
the divine law requires every man to love God with the whole heart, then 
it is one and the same thing to say, that a man is guilty of no sin, and to say 
that he perfectly complies with the requisition of supreme love.— If the law 
requires that, at every moment of our moral existence, we have some form 
of a desire to promote the glory of God, then a man who does not deviate 
from this law, must always have some form of a holy desire. The nature of 
a moral being, prevents the possibility of his avoiding a positive compliance, 
or else a positive refusal of compliance with every known claim of law. If 
he be supposed to prefer a state of neutrality above a state of decided sub- 
jection or rebellion, then, in that very preference, he rebels against the com- 
mand to be decided for God. If the will of a man be dormant, then the man, 
considered merely in reference to his state of dormancy, is not a moral be- 
ing. If the will be in exercise, then its most innocent state is that of choos- 
ing to be neither for nor against God, rather than to be against him ; and yet 
58 



458 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



to choose, specifically, not to be for him, is as real disobedience as to choose, 
specifically, to be against him. The two acts of choice are essentially the 
choice of evil rather than good. 

" Actual sins are divided into sins of commission, i. e. positive sins, such 
as are committed against the law forbidding; and sins of omission, i. e. ne- 
gative, such as are committed against the law commanding. Reinhard,p. 
313. Matt. 25: 24— 30. 42 — 45. This division is not accurate, and depends 
on a difference in the use of language, rather than a difference in the nature 
of the thing. For every commission of evil is, at the same time, an omis- 
sion of the good opposed to it; and vice versa. The distinction however, 
in practice, is a useful one ; see James 4: 17." Bretschneider, Entwickelung 
§ 91. I . a. 

NOTE D, p. 396. 

" If it should be impossible for a man to live otherwise than virtuously, or 
if his virtue should be necessary, it would have no value and no merit. All 
freedom, in that case, would vanish,|and man would become a mere machine. 
The virtue of Christ, then, in resisting steadfastly all the temptations to sin, 
acquires a real value and merit, only on admission that he could have sin- 
ned :" Knapp's Theol. Art. 10. § 93. 3. B. b. If then the value of holiness 
in a creature is entirely taken away by the supposition of the creature's 
absolute inability to sin, why does not the same supposition of necessary 
holiness in the Creator entirely take away the value of that holiness ? Does 
the impossibility of sinning, ascribed to the Deity in Heb. 6: 18, differ in 
kind, or only in degree, from the impossibility of doing right, ascribed 
to sinners in John 6: 44 ? Are there not, in the Bible and elsewhere, many 
instances in which God is with propriety represented as being unable, in the 
figurative sense, to do what he is, by confession of all, able in the literal 
sense to do ? If man, as a moral agent, was created in the image of God, 
how can he have a power of doing what he certainly will not do, while yet 
his Prototype has no such power? Which is the more honorable to 
Jehovah, to suppose that he will always, with infallible certainty, choose, as 
a free agent, to do right, or that he will do right, because he has no ability to 
do otherwise ? Does not our author in his remarks on the power of acting 
wrong, which was essential to Christ as a moral agent, seem to overlook that 
certainty of acting right, which was as infallible in Christ, as if he could not 
have acted otherwise ? 

Our sentiment of reverence for the Saviour is repelled perhaps by the 
assertion, that he could ha ve done wrong ; but is it not because we associate 
with the phrase, power to sin, some degree (however small) of reason to 
suspect that the power will be exercised in actual sinning? And is there 
anything repulsive in the statement, that every holy being in the universe 
has a power to be unholy ; unless we consider this power as something more 
than a constituent element of moral agency, as something which involves 
more or less of a reason to suspect, that what can be, will in fact be ? It is 
perfectly easy, as it should seem, to keep distinct the two ideas of an agent's 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



459 



ability to act either way, right or wrong, and an uncertainty whether he 
will act in this or that way, right or wrong; it is perfectly consistent to 
affirm the former, and to deny the latter in reference to the same being ; 
to affirm the one, as an element of his moral nature, and to deny the other, as 
the excellence of his character. It is from a habit of confounding these 
two ideas ; of supposing that a power to act either way, right or wrong, 
involves an uncertainty in which way the being will really act, that the asser- 
tion of a power in all the holy beings of heaven to become unholy, seems to 
derogate from the firm and ever undeviating holiness of those beings. The 
assertion should rather lead us to reverence such exalted natures, as, with 
all the liberty which moral agents can possess, will choose, will ever perse- 
vere in choosing the best course. 

The last sentence in the paragraph connected with this note, may be 
translated in the following manner. " Sinlessness only presupposes, that 
the development, which Jesus made of human (goodness or) virtue, went on 
without any hindrance or interruption, resulting from his power to choose 
between good and evil ; (or in respect to his choosing between good and 
evil.") 

NOTE E, pp. 398, 399. 

There may be some readers of this treatise, who are not so familiar, as 
Ullmann would suppose, with the early heathen and Jewish testimony re- 
specting the Messiah. A brief view of it may be, therefore, not entirely 
useless. 

The Epistle of Abgarus, King of Edessa to Jesus, and the Rescript of the 
latter to the former, have long been considered a forgery. The Acts of 
Pontius Pilate, and his Letter to Tiberius, have likewise been so considered 
by many. The Acts now extant are doubtless spurious. That Pilate ever 
gave to his Government or to his countrymen, a written expression of his 
opinion concerning the Messiah, rests on no authority, but that of some 
early christian writers, none of whom assert that they had seen his Acts or 
Letter. Justin Martyr in his First Apology, about A. D. 140, refers to the 
Acts of Pilate twice. Tertullian in his Apology, about A. D. 200, says, 
" Of all these things," i. e. the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ, 
" Pilate, in his conscience a Christian, sent an account to Tiberius, then 
Emperor." He also makes another statement, the substance of which is 
contained in the following abstract of a passage in Eusebius. (Eccl. Hist. 
B. 2. Ch. 2.) This historian asserts, chiefly however on the poor authority 
of Tertullian, that as it was customary for the Roman Governors to write to 
the Emperor an account of any remarkable events, which had occurred within 
their respective provinces, so Pilate wrote to Tiberius an account of the 
miracles of Christ, and of his death and resurrection ; that Tiberius conse- 
quently proposed to the Roman Senate to place Jesus among their gods, 
" as he was already believed by many to be a god ;" that the Senate, who 
exclusively had the power to deify, refused assent to this proposal, their 
alleged reason being the complimentary one, that Tiberius himself had once 



460 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



declined the honor of deification ; that the Emperor, though obliged to 
acquiesce in this decision, still remained favorable to the Christians, and 
discouraged persecution against them. The evidence for and against the 
credibility of this narration, is given at length in Lardner's Works, Vol. VI. 
pp. 605 — 620. Lardner himself seems to judge of it too favorably. 

The five different methods, which Pilate adopted of showing his reluctance 
to condemn Jesus, are a sufficient testimony of his esteem for the character 
of his prisoner ; and are so much the more convincing, as his moral 
sensibilities were not such as to be excited by any ordinary exhibitions of 
virtue. When we consider the irascibility of his temper, and the indepen- 
dent spirit of Christ's replies to him, it seems probable that he would not 
have brooked such answers from any man of less commanding virtue. But 
of Pilate's character, more will be said at the close of this note. 

The notices, which the Roman historians have given of Christ and his 
system, furnish less of direct information, than of matter for inference. 
What they say of Christianity will suggest their opinion of its author. 

Tacitus, speaking of " Pomponia Graecina, a lady of eminent quality," 
says that she was i: accused of practising a foreign superstition," (super- 
stitionis externae rea), Ann. B. XIII. ch. 32. This " foreign superstition" is 
supposed by Lipsius, and others, to have meant the christian religion. — Again, 
after speaking of the great fire at Rome in the year 64, he says, Nero " in- 
flicted the most cruel punishments upon those people who were held in ab- 
horrence for their crimes, and whom the common people called Christians. 
They received their name from Christus, who, in the reign of Tiberius, was 
put to death as a criminal by the Procurator, Pontius Pilate. This pernicious 
superstition, though checked for a while, broke out again, and spread, not 
only over Judea, the source of this evil, but reached the city of Rome also, 
whither flow from all quarters, all things vile and shameful, and where they 
are practised (celebrantur). At first they only were apprehended, who con- 
fessed themselves of that sect; afterwards, by their information, a vast 
multitude were apprehended ; and they were condemned, not so much for 
the crime of burning the city, as for their enmity to mankind." — " At length 
these men, though really criminal and deserving exemplary punishment, 
began to be commiserated ; as people who were destroyed not from regard 
to the public welfare, but merely to gratify the cruelty of one man ." Ann. 
B. XV. Ch. 41. The enmity to the human race, of which Tacitus accuses 
the Christians, is probably nothing more than their neglect of the common 
Pagan worship, and the apparent singularity of their religious faith. 

Suetonius says of Claudius, " He banished the Jews from Rome, who 
were continually making disturbances, Chrestus being their leader." Life of 
Claud. Ch. 25. See Acts 18: 2. Christ was often called Chrestus by the 
Romans ; and the Jews and Christians, (Chrestiani as they were often 
called), were regarded, by Pagans generally, as one and the same class. In 
his life of Nero, Ch. 16, Suetonius says, - l The Christians were punished ; 
a sort of men of a new and magical superstition ;" (superstitionis novae et 
maleficae ; which last word Mosheim considers equivalent to the word, 
exitiabilis, in the above-quoted passage from Tacitus, and there translated 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



461 



pernicious.) Suetonius speaks, with apparent complacency, of the persecu- 
tions which the Christians endured. 

Pliny the Younger, in his celebrated letter to the Emperor Trajan, written 
A. D. 107, expresses himself with an indefiniteness like that of the preceding 
historians, in reference to « the contagion of the (Christian) superstition." 
He says, that he has never been present at any of the trials of Christians, 
and therefore does not exactly know what is the subject matter of punish- 
ment, or of inquiry. He does not know whether men ought to be punished 
merely for the fact that they bear the name of Christians, when they are 
detected in no crime, or whether they should be punished for nothing but 
the crimes connected with the name. Some who have been arraigned as 
Christians, he says, recanted their principles at the trial, repeated an 
invocation to the gods, made supplication to the image of the Emperor, 
which, with other statues, was brought out for that purpose, and reviled the 
name of Christ : « none of which things, it is reported, they who are 
really Christians can by any means be compelled to do." He concludes his 
letter with the well known description of the only fault or error acknowl- 
edged by the new sect ; i. e. < their meeting on a stated day , before light, and 
singing, one after another, among themselves, a hymn to Christ as a god,' 
their frequent partaking without any disorder, of a social meal, their mutual 
pledge to commit no crime, etc. etc. 

The passages in Josephus, which allude to the Saviour, are found in his 
Antiquities, XVIII. Ch. 3. § 3. and XX. Oh. 9. § 1 . The former passage only 
has been deemed an interpolation. The genuineness of it, however, has 
been defended by many, and with singular ability by C. G. Bretschneider. 
See Trans, of his defence in Bibl. Repos. Vol. IV. pp. 705—711, and Ch. 
Spec. 1825. The following are Bretschneider's versions of the two passages. 

» At this time lived Jesus, a wise man ; if indeed it be proper to call him 
a man. For he performed astonishing works, and was a teacher of such as 
delight in receiving the truth : and drew to himself many of the Jews and 
many also of the Gentiles. This was he who is (called) Christ. And when 
Pilate, at the instance of the chief men among us, had caused him to be 
crucified, still those who had once loved him, did not cease to love him. 
For on the third day he again appeared unto them alive ; divine prophets 
having foretold these and ten thousand other wonderful things respecting 
him. And even to this day, that class of persons, who were called by him 
Christians, have not become extinct." 

« Ananus assembled a council of judges, and having brought before them 
the brother of Jesus, called Christ, (whose own name was James), and 
certain others, and having accused them of violating the laws, he delivered 
them over to be stoned." 

The character of Pilate, a correct appreciation of which is important for 
understanding the history of our Saviour's trial, maybe learned from 
Winer's Bib. Realworterbuch, Art. Pilate, and the authorities there mention- 
ed. The following is a translation of the passage in Philo, referred to on 
page 399, of this volume. 
" Pilate was Procurator of Judea. Not so much out of favor to Tiberius 



462 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



as hatred of the Jews, he dedicated gilt shields, and placed them in Herod's 
palace, within the holy city. There was no figure upon them, nor any 
thing else that was forbidden, except a certain needful inscription, con- 
taining the name of the person who dedicated them, and of the person to 
whom they were dedicated.— When this transaction was noised abroad, the 
people petitioned that the shields, thus newly introduced, might be taken 
away, that their hereditary customs, which had been kept safe through so 
many ages by kings and emperors, might not be violated. He opposed their 
wishes with roughness, as he was a man of inflexible temper, arrogant and 
implacable. They then cried out, " Do not you excite sedition and war ! 
Do not you put an end to our peace ! The Emperor is not honored by 
treating our ancient laws with disrespect. Do not make him, then, a pretext 
for injuring our nation. He does not wish to have any of our usages 
abolished. If you say that you have received any edict or letter, or any 
thing of the kind from the Emperor, produce it, that we may cease troubling 
you with the matter, and by ambassadors may entreat the Emperor to revoke 
his command." This last exasperated Pilate very much ; for he was afraid 
that if they should send an embassy, they would prove against him many 
mal-administrations of his government : his pronouncing judgment under 
the influence of bribes, his abusive conduct, his extortion, his violence, his 
injustice, his oft-repeated slaughters of men who had not been condemned, 
his inhuman cruelty. Feeling angry and implacable, Pilate now could not 
tell what to do. On the one hand, he neither dared to remove what had 
been dedicated, nor was he willing to do anything for the gratification of 
men who were his subjects ; and on the other hand, he was not ignorant of the 
firmness of Tiberius in things of this kind. When the chief men of the nation 
saw his perplexity, and also that he repented of what he had done, but did not 
wish to have his sorrow perceived, they wrote to Tiberius the most supplicatory 
letters. When the emperor had read these letters, what did he say of Pilate ? 
What did he threaten ? It is needless to narrate how angry he became ; the 
event itself declares ; and yet he was not easily irritated. The event was, that 
immediately, even on that very day, he wrote a letter to Pilate, rebuked him 
severely for his recent audacious proceeding, and commanded him to re- 
move the shields forthwith. Accordingly they were removed from the 
metropolis to Cesarea by the sea-side, called Sebaste, in honor of your great 
grand-father (Augustus) ; that they might be placed in the temple conse- 
crated to him there. In that temple they were deposited." Letter of 
Agrippa the Elder to Caligula; in Philo Jud., de Virt. et Leg. ad Caj., Works, 
Vol. II. pp. 589, 590. This account from Philo is remarkably similar to one 
in Josephus, Ant. XVIII. Ch. 3. § 1. instances like these, (supposing them 
to have been two different events), and like that of Pilate's attempting to 
bring a current of water into Jerusalem, (recorded in Jos. Ant. XVIII. Gh. 
3. § 2), must have convinced the Prefect, how dangerous it was to oppose 
the religious prejudices of the Jews; and thus excite them to complain of 
his mal-administration to the Emperor. They will, therefore, serve to account 
for the fear which he manifested during several parts of our Saviour's trial. 
See John 19: 7, 8. 19: 12, etc. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



463 



NOTE F, pp. 437—439,415, 416. 

Perhaps there is no better method of investigating any theory than by 
examining the converse modes of exhibiting it. Take, for example, the 
statement that free agency implies a power, existing in its possessor, to 
choose what he does in fact refuse, and to refuse what he does in fact choose. 
The power to sin, as possessed by every moral being who is now and ever 
will be free from sin, illustrates the power to be perfect, as possessed by 
every moral being who is now not only imperfect but entirely sinful. As 
the power of sinning is entirely consistent with an infallible certainty of not 
sinning ; so the power of becoming and remaining free from all sin, is en- 
tirely consistent with an infallible certainty of remaining forever sinful. 
As the statement that the elect angels, that the Saviour, that even the Deity, 
have the ability to do what any other moral agent can do, is often condemned 
for its apparent disrespect to the character of God, so the statement that the 
evil angels, and all the non-elect have the ability to repent, is often con- 
demned for its apparent disrespect to the divine purposes, and its assumption 
of human independence. Both the statements however are condemned un- 
justly. It has been already remarked, (Note D.), that the power of the 
highest orders of holy beings to sin, is connected with an infallible certainty, 
that the power will not be exercised in actual sinning; so it may be re- 
marked, that the power of man to be perfect is connected with the same 
kind of certainty, that this power will not, during the present life, be ex- 
ercised in this perfect obedience. It seems unreasonable to insinuate that 
the doctrine of natural ability to do whatever God has required, is at all 
inconsistent with man's inveterate unwillingness to do it, and his consequent 
entire dependence on the special interposition of the Holy Spirit. 

Such remarks, however, as those of Ullmann on pages 437—9, oblige us to 
confess, that evangelical divines, insisting on the exact equality between 
the power of man and his obligation, do sometimes include in this power, 
such a degree of contingency, as would render it always uncertain, whether 
the possible will not be also the actual. The mere possession of an ability is 
regarded, tacitly at least, as some evidence that the ability will be developed 
in this or that way ! Because man can be perfect, there is thought to be 
some ground for expecting, or at least suspecting, that he will in fact and in 
this life be perfect ! And because he has faculties adequate to all that is 
demanded of them, he is called upon to confide in himself, and cherish 
" faith in human nature.'' 

While we would condemn such a style of reasoning as is pursued on pa- 
ges 437 — 439, and such phraseology as is employed there, and also on pages 
415, 416, such for example as " faith in human nature," (Glaube an die 
Menscheit), we would still choose to stop, in our condemnation, at the 
proper bounds. There is no error, believed by man, which is not mingled 
with some truth ; and the remarks of Ullmann, however untrue as well as 
unfortunate in some respects, are yet pervaded by a sentiment, not only cor- 
rect but important. If, in our theories, we extend the depravity of man be- 



464 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



yond its real province ; if we deny the innocence of some of his natural de- 
sires ; if we abjure all confidence in the decisions of his moral sense ; if we 
deny the adaptedness of divine truth to exert a hopeful influence on his con- 
stitutional susceptibilities; if we reject the idea that he works out his own 
salvation simultaneously with his being influenced by God; if we insist on 
his passivity and dependence, so as to exclude his activity and freedom in the 
renovation of his soul ; above all, if we forget the fact, that the Spirit of con- 
verting love never intermits his watch and care over the race, but stands 
ready to hear the faintest cry for help, and to inspire the prayer which he 
afterwards answers ; we shall benumb our own sensibility, and shall labor 
with diminished zeal and skill for the accomplishment of the divine promi- 
ses. There is always danger, lest, in our zeal for the letter of a human 
creed, we lose the spirit of the Bible ; and in wishing to make out a strong 
case of human depravity, we bereave ourselves of some of the choice senti- 
ments of our religious being. There is sad reason to believe, that one class 
of good men, at the present day, overlook man's need, in their zeal for his 
possessing a moral nature ; and another class overlook his real agency, in 
their zeal for his being governed by his Maker. Meditating disproportion- 
ally on what God has given to man, some almost forget how obstinate man is 
in abusing all these gifts. Meditating too exclusively on our depraved and 
dependent state, others are inclined to respect our constitution as little as 
our character, and they impute sin to all that we are, as well as all that we 
do. Now there can be but little doubt, that those, who wish to produce a 
strong impression of man's guilty helplessness, would succeed better than they 
have as yet done, if they would insist more frequently upon those noble powers, 
which are unremittingly abused, and which are essential to man's aggrava- 
ted sinfulness. There can be but little doubt, also, that those who wish to 
commend the doctrine of ability commensurate with duty, would sooner dis- 
pel the prejudices that oppose them, if they would insist more on what 
they firmly believe, the undeviating tendency of the natural heart to turn all 
its power of well doing into the channel of evil doing. The whole truth, 
just as it is, must be believed, or we cannot unite evangelical activity with 
rational dependence. The powers of man must be acknowledged to exist, 
or he will not feel his responsibility and his guilt. His inveterate unwil- 
lingness to do what of good he can do, must be exhibited fully , or he will be 
tempted to regard his capabilities as in themselves virtuous, which would be 
as irrational as to regard them sinful. The fault, so far as there is any fault, 
in two of the evangelical parties, who are jealous of each other in reference 
to the doctrine of natural ability, seems to be, not so much that either party 
believes what is positively false, as that each party is somewhat inclined to 
insist on merely half of what is true. The charge of positive heresy, when 
made by either party against the other, appears to be gratuitous, and even if 
made from good motives, is productive of but few good results. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 565 

NOTE G, p. 439, 440. 

The word Sundhaftigkeit is used in distinction from Sonde, just as vitio- 
sitas is used in distinction from vitium, and vitiosity from sin. Sundhafti- 
gkeit is the abstract; Sttnde is the concrete. Siindhaftigkeit denotes the 
state of a person who acts sinfully ; Sonde denotes the sinful act itself. 
" Every departure," says Bretschneider, " which we make in a state of free- 
dom, from the design of our being, or, which is the same thing, from the 
known will of God, is sin in the concrete, actual sin, Sttnde, peccatum ; and 
the tendency to such a departure is sin in the abstract, Siindhaftigkeit, viti- 
ositas." And again : " The general definition of sin, (Sonde) is therefore, 
every deviation from the law of God (1 John 3: 4) : but in a more restricted 
sense, and with reference to morality, it is every deviation, which we make 
as free agents, from the known law of God. The state of vitiosity, (Siind- 
haftigkeit) is moral corruption, (corruptio, (p&oQd, 2 Pet. I: 4. 2: 12. Eph. 4: 
22. 2 Cor. 11: 3.), which, according to the symbolical books, is found in all 
men." Bretsch. Dogmatic, § 118. 

Our theological dialect needs some convenient term, which shall designate, 
without ambiguity, the state of mind leading to actual sin, as distinguished 
from actual sin itself; the propensity, tendency, proclivity of the soul to 
wickedness, as distinguished from the actual wickedness. 

The state of the soul, which constitutes this propension or proneness to 
sin, seems to consist not in barely possessing susceptibilities, the gratifica- 
tion of which is, in certain circumstances, a sin ; but in possessing them in 
such a degree of liveliness as will certainly lead to voluntary sinful indul- 
gence. These ' lower,' ' inferior,' susceptibilities, as they are called, consti- 
tute part of our nature, as God originally made it ; but they do not, in them- 
selves, constitute what is technically denominated native depravity, or sin- 
ful disposition. When, however, these susceptibilities are in such a degree 
of liveliness as results in an improper gratification of them, when in their 
active power they overbalance those susceptibilities which would otherwise 
determine the will to holiness, then they constitute that tendency, bias, dis- 
position to sin, which is technically denominated native, as distinct from ac- 
tual depravity, and which is the uniform occasion of sin, in the proper sense 
of that term. 

There is doubtless a difference, in some respects, between the state, the 
very nature or constitution of a holy being, and that of a sinful being ; the 
nature of the former is such, that in his moral developments he will fulfil 
the law, and the nature of the latter is such, that in his moral developments 
he will transgress the law. The nature of the holy being is such, that he 
will use in a certain way such powers as the sinful being has and invaria- 
bly uses in the opposite way. In the good being, those higher suscepti- 
bilities, the preponderance of which determines the will aright, are so much 
more lively than those lower susceptibilities, the voluntary gratification of 
which, beyond a certain degree, constitutes sin, that the being finds his 
chief pleasure in benevolence. In the wicked being, those lower suscepti- 

59 



466 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



bilities, the voluntary gratification of which beyond a certain degree is for- 
bidden, are so much more active and excitable than the higher, that the be- 
ing finds his chief pleasure in selfishness. In the good, that part of his na- 
ture which was designed to be subordinate is kept so, and that which was 
designed to sway, does so ; but in the wicked, the nobler susceptibilities are 
swayed by the baser ; swayed as certainly and as invariably as if unavoidably. 

(The first of these two classes of susceptibilities is often called spiritual ; 
the second, sensual or carnal. But the words sensual, carnal, do not seem 
to be the precise words which are needed. First, they are often used in 
their primary signification, as equivalent to animal ; whereas there are some 
sensibilities whose indulgence is, in certain circumstances, sin, which are 
not bodily or animal. Secondly, the words sensual and carnal are often 
used as equivalent to sinful, wicked ; whereas it is not here intended to de- 
signate the susceptibilities, which are the occasions of sinning, as in them- 
selves blameworthy. For these reasons, a circumlocution is substituted for 
the words often employed on this subject.) 

It is frequently said, that previous to any change in the moral quality of 
an individual's actions, there must be a change in his nature or state ; this 
change securing the certainty of that. If the change of state do not pre- 
cede, in the order of time, the change in act, it is said to be necessarily an- 
terior in the order of nature. Now may not the change in the nature or 
state of Adam, which secured the certainty of his change from a holy to a 
sinful choice, have been, a change in the relative activity, or excitement of 
the two classes of susceptibilities, which he had possessed from the first ? 
On this supposition those susceptibilities, which were originally the more 
lively, or had been the more excited, became now the less so. They had 
been the inward incitements to holiness; they became now no longer pre- 
dominant in determining the will ; the will then no longer obeyed the law. 
Those susceptibilities, on the contrary, which were originally the less active 
or excited, which were kept as they were designed to be, subordinate, be- 
came now the more lively in their action, and predominant in determining 
the will. Just so sOon as the sensibilities, constituting the subjective incite- 
ments to sin, came, by the pressure of objective temptation, into more lively 
exercise than the opposite sensibilities, just so soon were they dispropor- 
tionately, i. e. sinfully indulged. The first act of will, gratifying the inor- 
dinate craving of these sensibilities, was the first sin ; the apostasy. The 
mode, in which the proper balance between the two classes of susceptibili- 
ties may have been permanently changed, has been intimated, with his usual 
succinctness, by Bishop Butler, Anal. Part I. Chap. 5. 

If the change of nature in Adam may be said to consist in a change of the 
balance between the activity of the higher and that of the lower suscepti- 
bilities ; may not also the change of nature in regeneration be said to con- 
sist in a partial restoration of the original balance ; in changing the relative 
state of the susceptibilities from the inclination toward evil to the inclina- 
tion toward good ? The common remark is that in the new birth no new 
power or faculty is imparted to man ; but he begins, in his new state, to use 
for God the talent which, though previously possessed, was kept hidden. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 467 

In this view of the subject, which is suggested as a matter of speculation and 
not of faith, Ullmann is evidently correct in saying, in the paragraph under 
comment, that the power to sin does not constitute the tendency to sin; for 
the susceptibilities variously termed inferior, sensual, carnal, may be so 
counterbalanced by the susceptibilities termed superior, higher, spiritual, 
that while there is a power to either course, the right or the wrong, there is 
a decided tendency to one course, the right, and a certainty, as fixed as if 
unavoidable, that the wrong course will never be commenced. And as the 
power to sin is distinct from the tendency, so the tendency is altogether dis- 
tinct from the sin. What precedes is distinct from what follows. The an- 
tecedent occasion of an event is distinct from the event itself. The tenden- 
cies to sin are devoid of guilt ; nothing but the voluntary indulgence of 
them is blameworthy. See Woods's Transl. of Knapp's Theol. IX. § 78. 111. 

In reference to the question then, whether God is the author of the propen- 
sity in our souls to do wrong, it may be affirmed, that if we pronounce him 
to be the author of it, we by no means pronounce him to be the author of 
sin. It does not follow from the fact of his having created within us sus- 
ceptibilities inwardly tempting us to do wrong, that he has shut us up to 
those susceptibilities, and thereby necessitated us to do wrong. He has also 
created antagonist susceptibilities within us, has commanded, and, if so, has 
of course capacitated us to subjugate the more degrading principles of our 
nature to the more elevating. It is indeed true, that He has given us a pre- 
ponderance of appetite that leads to sin ; but this preponderance is an appa- 
rent evil, not a moral wrong ; an affliction to us, not a crime. The same 
Universal Cause, which has produced apparent evil in the world of matter, 
sees reasons which we cannot see for producing it in the world of mind. 
This apparent evil he has, however, commanded us to resist and overcome. 
He has taught us, that the excessive liveliness of our lower sensibilities, is 
a temptation, which we must combat ; that it is connected with sin, no fur- 
ther t than we voluntarily and disproportionately indulge what we have a 
power to mortify and keep subordinate. When our inferior propensities are 
indulged to an excess, they do not become sins ; the indulgence of them is 
the only sin ; and this indulgence is an act of ours, and cannot, either phi- 
losophically or evangelically, be represented as the immediate effect of Him 
who has forbidden it, and whose soul loathes it. On the cause of our pro- 
pensity to sin, see Knapp's Theol. IX. § 78, 79. Storr and Flatt, 111. § 55. 
While on the one hand, there is no need of becoming Manichaeans, and en- 
deavoring to deny that the certainty of the existence of sin was established 
by the Holy One, so on the other hand it is an equally unwise extreme to 
become fatalists ; and in an excess of zeal for the agency of God, to deny 
the agency of his creatures, and their undivided authorship of their own 
iniquity. 

The only remaining question suggested by Ullmann is, whether Christ 
possessed the vitiosity, which all other men possess. Our author does not 
deny, but rather affirms, that Christ possessed the same kind of constitution, 
which we do, i. e. the same kind of susceptibilities to animal and other en- 



I 

I 



468 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



joyment. If then our constitution is itself sinful, if any of our susceptibili- 
ties are in kind blameworthy, then, by necessary inference, they were so in 
the Saviour. But they are not so in us ; of course not in him. Neither 
does Ullmann deny, but he rather affirms, that those susceptibilities the in- 
ordinate indulgence of which is sin, were sometimes excited in Christ; he 
only denies that they were ever inordinately indulged ; the excitement'was 
always subdued, before it became so great as to determine the will to an act 
of sin. See pages 434—436. The conclusion then seems to be, that Christ 
did not possess such susceptibilities as lead to transgression, in the same de- 
gree of liveliness in which we possess them ; and that he did possess what 
is called the spiritual susceptibilities in a greater degree of Liveliness than we 
possess them ; that he had, as some express themselves, the same nature in 
kind with us, but not the same in degree; that all the temptations to evil, 
which his nature may have presented him, he uniformly resisted; and was 
therefore entirely free both from actual transgression and the proclivity to- 
wards it, from sin in the proper sense of the term, and from what is tech- 
nically but ambiguously called a sinful nature. See Heb. 4: 15. 



NOTE H, pp. 440—443. 

Those who are not familiar with the Lutheran theology, will more cor- 
rectly appreciate the manner in which Professor Ullmann speaks of original 
sin if they wil peruse the statement of the doctrine given by Bretschnlider 
in his Lntwickelung, § 94, and Hahn in his Lehrbuch 2 S 80 As the 
whole subject is one, on which precise definitions of what men have believed 
£'1™ P resent da ^ Peculiarly important, it may not be amiss to insert 
here the following translation from Bretschneider 

»i " Th , eo + (5 iai ; s ^ ake a distinction between original sin, peccatum habitu- 
ale and the actual smful deeds which proceed from that habitus. As sourc- 
es of actua s.ns they assign, original sin, the seductions of the devil and 
bad^example. Gerhard, Vol. II. p. 161. Calov. Vol. V. p. 369." Entwick. 

" By habitual sin, theologians understand a property or condition of hu- 
man nature, by means of which this nature is in a state of moral corruption 
the source of actual sin. Habitual sin is original sin, peccatum originate,' 
that is derived sin; which has resulted from the peccatum oriomanl that 
is, the first sin, the fall of man. The full idea of original sin, according to 
the symbolical books, is that incidental, total corruption of human nature 
which originated from the fall of man, is propagated by generation to all 
men, has taken the place of the lost image of God, and is ne ver in this life to 
be entirely separated from the nature of man ; a corruption by which man is 
made incapable of a true knowledge of God, of love toward him, and of real 
virtue ; is on the contrary full of a prevailing inclination to evil, and on this 
account is subjected to the punishment of death and to eternal condemnation " 

According to this, original sin is, first, something negative ; namely, « the 
total want, and defect or privation of concreated original righteousness or of 
the image of God. 1 ' 

Secondly it is something positive, « impotence and stupidity, by which 
m an is utterl y u nfit f or all spiritual things."* Under spiritual things is in- 

1 Totalis carentia et defectus, seu privatio concreatae iustitiae oricHnalis 
sive imaginis Dei. Formula Concordiae, Art. 1 . p. 640 

2 Impotentia 
prorsus in 



tentia, aSwa/iia, et stupiditas, qua homo ad omnia spiritual est 
leptus. Formula Concordiae, a. a. O. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



469 



eluded every thine which concerns » our salvation and eternal happiness 
This impotence consists, first, so far as the reason is concerned, m the tact 
that ' : men are born without the fear of God, without confidence m God ; 
or that from birth there dwells in them " ignorance of God, contempt ot him, 
a destitution of fear of him, and confidence in him ; an inability to love 
him." 2 Secondly, so far as the will is concerned, this impotence consists m 
"evil concupiscence," 3 that is, " a perpetunl inclination of nature to seek 
for carnal things, which are against the word of God ; to seek for not only 
the pleasures of the body, but also wisdom and carnal righteousness, and to 
confide in these good things, and to despise God." 4 

Thirdly, this positive corruption is not a kind of external obstacle to the 
operation of the powers of man, without these powers being themselves cor- 
rupted ; 5 but it affects the powers themselves, the whole man, body and soul. 
It is " the corruption of the whole nature and of all the powers, but espe- 
cially of the principal and higher faculties of the soul, in mind, intellect, 
heart and will." 6 L . , „ , 

Fourthly, it has originated from the fall ; or " the mass, from which bod 
at this day forms man, was corrupted and perverted in A.dam, and is thus 
propagated to us in the hereditary way." 7 it is communicated to us by gen- 
eration, by hereditary and natural propagation," because " in pnmo concep- 
tion'^ nostrae momento ipsum semen, ex quo homo formatur peccato jam 
contaminatum et oorruptum est." F. C. I. p. 644. Aug. C. Art. 2. 

Fifthly, it is however not the substance of the man himself, or an essen- 
tial property, that is, a property necessary to the nature of the man ; but it 
is an accidens, an incidental property like leprosy in the body. 8 

Sixthly, but this property is common to all men without exception. " Af- 
ter the fall of Adam all men, propagated in the natural way, are born with 
sin." 9 (As the human nature of Christ was not propagated in the ordinary 
way, so he alone has been considered exempt from original sin.) This 
property cannot be entirely removed even from the converted.^ " It will be 
fully removed, however, by death in the happy resurrection." 10 Baptism 
however takes away the guilt of original sin ; and the Spirit, imparted through 
baptism, " begins to mortify evil desire and creates new feelings in the 



man. 



1 Homines nascuntur sine metu Dei, sine fiducia erga Deum. Aug. Con. 
Art. 2. 

2 Ignorantia Dei, contemptus Dei, vacare metu Dei et fiducia erga Deum, 
non posse diligere Deum. Apol. 1. p. 53. 

3 Concupiscentia prava. Aug. Con. Art. 2. 

4 Perpetua naturae inclinatio (Apol. p. 51), quae carnalia quaerit contra 
verbum Dei, h. e. quaerit non solum voluptates corporis, sed etiam sapien- 
tiam et justitiam carnalem, et confidit his bonis, contemnens Deum. Apol. 
p. 55. 

5 Form. Con. 1. p. 642. 

6 Corruptio totius naturae et omnium virium, imprimis vero superiorum 
et principalium animae facultatum in mente, intellectu, corde et voluntate. 
Form. Con. p. 640. 

7 Massa, ex quo hodie Deus hominem format, in Adamo corrupta et per- 
versa est, et ita haereditario modo in nos propagatur. F. C. 1. p. 647. 

s F. C. Art. 1. p. 642, 577, 645. 

9 Post lapsum Adae omnes homines, secundum naturam propagati. nas- 
cuntur cum peccato. Aug. C. Art. 2. 

10 Hoc per mortem in beata ilia resurrectione plene fiet. F. C. I. p. 575. 

11 Incipit mortificare concupiscentiam et novos motus creat in homine. 
Apol. 1. p. 56. 



470 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



Seventhly, this corruption is real sin, that is, punishable by God. « It is 
truly sin, condemning, and bringing now also eternal death upon those who 
are not born again by baptism and the Spirit." 1 We are by this corruption 
" children of wrath by nature, and slaves of death and condemnation.' 2 The 
punishment for original sin is, according to A. C. II., eternal perdition; it 
is also according to Apol. I. p. 58, death, and other physical evils, and the 
dominion of the devil (over us). So likewise the Schm. Art. pt. 3. art. 1., 
and F. C. I. p. 641, and in other places. 

Our theologians, until these modern times, have adhered without deviation 
to this doctrine of original sin ; and the older writers of systems unanimous- 
ly described original sin, according to the idea found in the symbolical books, 
asdefectus and corruptio, want of holiness, and, positively, bad inclinations; 
besides which they only considered the guilt of original sin as its third essen- 
tial feature, and in opposition to the Romish church they ascribed this sin to 
the mother of Jesus. (Callixtus is an exception to the preceding remark. 
He considered the image of God, as something superadded, a supernatural 
gift, and asserted that from the fall there resulted a privation of original right- 
eousness, but no positive corruption of the powers of man ; that man how- 
ever is now given up to his natural dispositions. He therefore denied the 
positive part of the doctrine of the church). 

Modern theologians, on the contrary, who have followed the standards of 
the church, have yet deviated from them on this subject, in the following 
points. First, they have not admitted the idea, that human reason is corrupt 
ted in the discernment of good, but barely that there is an undue (abnorme) 
preponderance of the animal inclinations, or of the animal susceptibilities 
above the reason. So Michaelis, Morus, Storr, Reinhard, etc. Secondly, 
they have not agreed with the older theologians, (such as Gerhard, Vol. 11. 
p. 155), in explaining this undue preponderance of the sensual excitability 
as a punishment for the first sin of Adam, nor moreover, as a consequence of 
this first transgression alone; but have asserted that this transgression is on- 
ly the first beginning ; but the preponderance of the animal inclinations has 
been gradually occasioned by the sins which have perpetually succeeded 
that of Adam. Thirdly, they have therefore added the position, that this 
moral corruption has no fixed limits assigned to its quantity, and is not the 
same in different subjects, but is susceptible of increase and diminution; 3 
and by Christianity will be more and more diminished. 4 Christianity brings 
men back into (their normal state ;) the state in which they should be ; that 
of moral freedom, or the dominion of the true, the good and the beautiful. 

Others, on the contrary, have rejected this doctrine of the church, and 
have denied that man is in a state of corruption, which did not originally 
belong to him, but which has been subsequently added to him. They have 
admitted nothing, but a vitiosity, a tendency to sin, which is natural to man, 
which is original ; and which is dependent on the inevitably earlier devel- 
opment, and therefore the greater cultivation and activity of the sensual part 
of our nature. They regard this as a limitation not to be separated from hu- 
man nature, and itself not punishable. Doederlein, p. 48, however, will yet 
allow, that the incidental faulty conditions of temperament can be propaga- 
ted by generation. The ' radical evil' which Kant supposes to exist in hu- 
man nature, comes back also to this same idea. He places this evil, first, in 
the weakness of the human heart, as to following the moral principles it has 
received; secondly, in the insincerity of the heart, in obeying commands of 



1 Vere est peccatum, damnans et afferens nunc quoque aeternam mortem 
his, qui non renascuntur per baptismum et Spiritum Sanctum. A. C. II. 

2 Natura filii irae, mortis et damnationis mancipia. F. C. I. p. 641. 

3 So Reinhard, p. 307. Bretschneider, Vol. II. pp. 75 seq. 

4 Bretschneider, Vol. II. pp. 585 seq. 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



471 



duty not from pure moral considerations, but from the incitements of selfish- 
ness ; and thirdly, in the hostility to good (or in badness), in the arbitrari- 
ness in reference to principles, by which the moral motives to an act are 
treated as subordinate to those which are not moral. 

As to the biblical idea of original sin, the passage in Gen. iii. contains not 
the slightest notice of such a sin as commencing at the fall of man ; and Gen. 
8: 21.°Ps. 58: 3. Isa. 48: 8. Eccl. 7:20. Prov. 20: 9. Job 14: 4. 1 Kings 8: 
46, speak only of the historical matter of fact, (which the New Testament 
also acknowledges in John 1: 8—10. Gal. 3: 22. Rom. ii. and iii.), that no 
man is without sin, and that the tendency to sin develops itself at an early 
period. On the other hand, Paul teaches, Rom. 7: 14 seq., more definitely, 
that the sensual part of our nature has a preponderance over the rational; 
and he derives this and the consequent sins of the human race, as also the 
origin of death, Rom. 7: 14 seq., from the offence of Adam. He holds this 
preponderance to be punishable ; see Eph. 2: 3. He does not however ex- 
press himself definitely on the nature of this connection between Adam and 
his posterity." Entwick. § 94. 

NOTE 1, p. 441. 

Perhaps no writer has more fully, as well as intelligently, believed in " the 
universal corruption of human nature,"' than Dr. Bellamy ; and yet how far 
he was from believing that this corruption is inconsistent with " an unweak- 
ened power of choice"" may be seen in his Works Vol. 1. pp. 148, 149. The 
remarks there made, if made in these days of uncandid dispute, would be 
condemned by some as Semi-Pelagian; and yet they received the explicit 
sanction of President Edwards, and were generally supposed, until the re- 
cent prevalence of a controversial spirit, to represent the standard doctrine 
of New England. It is obvious, from several of the remarks of Ullmann on 
the subject of natural ability, that his views are not so definite as those which 
have, since the days of Edwards, been current in New England. The same 
criticism may be made on the representations, which other foreign authors 
have given of the same doctrine. It is not true, that they have derived all 
their knowledge of the doctrine from American divines. The distinction 
between that which is, in the strict use of language, an ability to do right, 
and that which, in the words of Robert Hall, " may without absurdity be call- 
ed an inability," was by no means discovered in the last century, and in this 
corner of the world. Like every other fundamental truth, it has always been 
assumed by those who have written on moral agency ; assumed tacitly even 
when denied openly. It has been intimated in the current maxims, Ejus 
est velle, qui potest nolle; Consentire non potest, cum nec dissentire possit, 
Many of our old theological writers came so near stating the doctrine with 
precision, that the reader is now startled, at their standing so long on the 
threshold, without opening the door. Remarkably clear expositions, how- 
ever, are given of this truth in the works of John Howe, Richard Baxter, 
and Jeremy Taylor. For the mode in which the latter alludes to it, see 
Sermons, Vol. I. pp. 137, 138, 191, 399 et al. In some passages he has an- 
ticipated some of the identical phraseology of Edwards. 

" The earliest regular treatise on this subject," says Robert Hall, " it has 
been my lot to meet with, was the production of Mr. Truman, an eminent 
non-conformist divine. In his Dissertation on Moral Impotence, as he 
styles it, he has anticipated the most important arguments of succeeding 
writers, and has evinced throughout a most masterly acquaintance v/ith his 
subject. This work is mentioned in terms of high respect by Nelson, in his 
Life of Bishop Bull, who remarks that his thoughts were original, and that 
he had hit upon a mode of defending Calvinism, against the objections of 
Bull and others, peculiar to himself. His claim to perfect originality, how- 
ever, was not so well founded as Nelson supposed." Hall's Works, Am. 
Ed. Vol. II. p. 450. 



472 



NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR. 



It may appear to some a matter of surprise, that New England men, whose 
tendencies are practical rather than speculative, should have been so suc- 
cessful in elucidating this article of our creed. It is to be considered, how- 
ever, that the doctrine is one which harmonizes with the peculiar habitudes 
of the American mind. It is not to be learned from literary research, but 
from common sense. It is to be learned from practical life. Our divines 
have aimed at the immediate conversion of their hearers ; this doctrine har- 
monizes with that design : it would be discovered more readily by a mind 
which was in a state congenial with it, than by any other. Its effect too, 
when first distinctly developed, was marked ; and by its beneficial influence 
on the character and results of New England preaching, it has been perhaps 
more diligently studied by New England divines, than by men more exclu- 
sively speculative. 

NOTE K, pp. 451, 449, 393. 

The explanation that some commentators give of John 14: 6, "lam the true 
guide to eternal life," Ullmann would condemn as jejune. He often uses, 
in this treatise and elsewhere, the expression Christ is the Truth, as denot- 
ing that < the word of God did not come to him from without, by occasional 
impulses, but that this word constantly dwelt in him, and went forth from 
him, without his receiving at peculiar times peculiar inspiration ; that he 
not merely taught the truth by his words, but exhibited it also in his acts ; 
that every deed of his was a doctrine, and every doctrine a God-like deed ; 
that his whole life was one great, connected, divine act, in which world- 
redeeming love was always identical with world-redeeming truth.' See 
Ullmann's Aphorisms, in Stud. und. Krit. Vol. VIII. pp. 598—602. " The 
word < truth' stands opposed not only to falsehood, but likewise to vanity. 
In the profound view of John, truth is one with essence; the opposite of that 
which is not real, which is empty, destitute of the divine nature. This is 
the character of the sinful world, (Rom 8: 20). The truth, on the contrary, 
is God himself, and his Logos, John 14: 6. He has it not, as something 
existing in idea with him, as something possessed by him; but he is it, it- 
self, in his own nature. The communication of truth, therefore, by the 
Logos is not the communication of certain correct ideas, but it is the com- 
munication of a nature, of the principle of all truth; it is the communion of 
the Spirit. On this account it is, as Seyffarth (p. 96) with entire correct- 
ness, declares, that the saints, who are born of God, are said by John to be 
sanctified by the truth," John 17: 19. In the style of John, therefore, r t 
dbj&sia, (with the article), is to be distinguished from alrfaia (without it), 
see John 8: 44. Some degree of truth is possessed even by the unsanctified. 
Only of the devil is it said, < truth is not in him.' But the absolute Truth is 
only the Eternal." Olshausen, Comm. on N. T. Vol. II. p. 52. 

It is, perhaps, unnecessary to introduce so much that borders on mysti- 
cism into the interpretation of the phrase, Christ is the truth. As he brought 
life and immortality to light ; as his instructions were peculiarly compre- 
hensive, definite, and tangible; as he continues to illuminate the minds of 
men ; as he is the object to which a great part of revelation pertains ; and as, 
in his capacity of the revealer and at the same time the object of truth, he 
merits the implicit confidence of all, he may, by a union of various figures 
of speech, be called the truth itself. On the same principle, though with far 
less propriety, we call a wise man wisdom; and a foolish man, folly, etc. So 
Christ is called the way, the life, the resurrection, etc. 



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